I , Adam Cartwright, 34 years old
by bengirl
Summary: What if Adam had married Laura? What kind of life would they have had? Gunfights, injuries, problems with Peggy, Laura's pregnancy, and a bizzare encounter with a visiting relative make Adam's life anything but boring!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1 : a new life

"We are leaving."

These three words come from the very depths of my heart. I add a long sigh to give Laura an idea of what I feel.

Now, at last, we're in the buggy heading home. "Laura," I tell her, "if I had spent another minute with your aunt, I would have committed murder."

"You're exaggerating, as always, Adam Cartwright."

I spend three weeks with a manic-depressive who gets hysterical when a door slams, for a crumb of bread or a curtain that is not closed well, and it's me who exaggerates!

I explode, I'm so strained. Every morning I've had to champ at the bit. I couldn't say to Aunt Lili what I wanted to say, because I was afraid, or was just being too polite.

I've been married to Laura for six months, and I didn't want to go visit Auntie for the first year. Now I'm on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

"It was awful, Laura!" I shout. "No more visiting Aunt Lili, please!"

"Shhh, not so loud, Adam, you'll wake Peggy."

"You're asking me again to lower my voice, but I need to express myself. I have to do everything secretly, my words and my anger."

"That's not what I meant. If Peggy wakes up now, while we have six more hours till morning, she'll start grumbling."

"Yeah, that's right, she's following my example. It seems that I'm always in a bad mood. That's what your charming aunt said. And then it's what she thinks: 'You should be more strict with this little one, otherwise it will make your life difficult.' When we first met, your aunt seemed to be so nice."

"Do you realize that I spent my days on Peggy's back? I scolded her every day. That little girl hates me."

"That's not true. She adores you."

The journey ends quietly, Laura and I are eager to find our little nest, that houses our love since we joined our lifes and hearts. My God, these journeys are so long on the dusty tracks of Nevada.

As we approach their house, I slow down the horses as not to wake Peggy who is sound asleep in the back of the buggy. It's late in the evening and I carry her right up to her bed. Then I take care of the horses, and Laura carries in the luggage and places it in the bedrooms. We head into the kitchen to sit down and eat a sandwich of left-over beef and bread. We have the same idea; we want to go to bed. She lays her corset on the chair and slips on her nightgown, then disappears under the sheets.

I turn to her. "Ah, here you are."

"Mommy, I'm hungry."

"Oh my God. Peggy. Go away!"

I quickly pull the sheet up to cover our bodies. The tender moment has just been destroyed. We both heard Peggy's voice, but we had not heard her running down the hallway or entering our bedroom.

"Peggy, go on," says Laura. "I'm coming, and I'll get you a piece of cake."

I'm angry, and I know that in the morning I will have to have a little talk with Peggy. She just needs to know the rules, and things will be fine.

Rule number one, I think: YOU HAVE TO KNOCK ON THE DOOR BEFORE YOU COME IN!

The next morning, Peggy is sitting in the kitchen drinking her chocolate and eating her breakfast, when I appear, still in my robe. I walk over and rest my hands on Laura's hips.

"Peggy, I want you to stop eating. We need to talk about what happened yesterday."

I walk over and sit down in a chair across the table from Peggy.

"Are you listening to me?" I continue.

"Yes, Adam."

I lay my hand on top of Peggy's.

"There's something you need to understand. You're old enough to know that you have to knock before you enter someone's room. A person's bedroom is private, and you just can't walk in like that. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"I was hungry."

Laura breaks in. "I don't think you would have died."

"But I always came into you room, Mama, and Daddy never said no," she whines.

"PEGGY!" Laura yells. Then she drops her eyes. "I'm sorry," she says as she leaves the room.

I decide it might be a good idea for Laura to be alone for now. She needs to cry, and I need to talk to Peggy.

"Okay, Peggy, as I was saying, that is the first rule you need to follow. It may be difficult for you at first, but it's a rule you have to follow. I am in your mother's life now, and in your life,too. I am responsible for you, and I know what is best for you."

"Yes, Adam."

"I want to explain to you that I love your mother. That's why I hold her hand and kiss her."

"And I can't watch you?"

"Yes, you have the right. You live here with us. But that doesn't include the bedroom."

"I don't need to leave every time you kiss my mom?"

"No, Peggy, not at all."

"It's so hard for me to change."

"I understand what you're saying, Peggy. It's true that life changes, and we will always remember your daddy. Everything is different. I'm different, but what doesn't change is the love I feel for you."

I smile at Peggy; she is really very cute and funny. I lean over and kiss her on the forehead. I tell her, "I do love you, you know. Maybe you should go tell your mother you are sorry for what you said to her."

"Okay, Adam, I'll do that."

The little girl leaves immediately.

Time is passing, and I decide I better get up and get dressed. I can be done before Laura and Peggy have even started getting ready. It will take them more than an hour just to pick out a dress and fix their hair.

Laura, my wife, is a very elegant lady and always looks lovely in her dresses. Peggy is now starting to do the same. I remember when I first saw her, she was wearing jeans and an shirt and climbing trees. She reminded me of Joe when he was little, but now she wants to wear dresses and be a lady like her mother.

I finish up my coffee and head into the bedroom to get dressed. I have a clean white shirt and my black suit. I see that both of my ladies are still sleeping. I lean on the door frame and watch them sleep. They are lovely; Peggy is holding her ma's hand. I think of my father and savor the moment that can so quickly be taken away. I know that happiness can end suddenly. That is why I want to enjoy every moment that God will let me spend with my family.

Quietly, I slip on my shirt and pants and am reminded of a funny moment. It was just after our wedding, and Laura was trying to hem my pants. She had trouble maintaining control as I kept trying to kiss her.

When I come into our bedroom for the night, I see Peggy in our bed sleeping next to her mother. This is very sweet, but I need a place in the bed too. I scoot her over gently and lay down curled up next to her. I feel Peggy's cold little feet on my legs and I try not to move. I'd much rather sleep in Laura's arms but I am just falling into the arms of this little one.

The next morning I feel the sun beaming on my face. It's Sunday at the end of August, and the weather is very pleasant. I open my eyes and swing my legs over the side of the bed. Without wakening the two of them, I slip on my pants.

I prefer to be alone in the kitchen in the mornings. Those minutes belong to me. I had a good night and I'm ready for the day. I'm thirty-four years old, I have a wonderful wife, and all the bad days are behind me. I can live my life in happiness and hope for Laura and our little Peggy.

I sip my coffee and take a deep breath. I'm thinking of the day we will have. After church we will picnic with my father and my brothers. I have to admit I miss the Ponderosa and my Pa and brothers. I am happy with Laura, but I have so many great memories of the Ponderosa. How could I even describe it? It's a piece of heaven, perfect and wonderful, and it's my home. When we first saw it, it was virgin ground and my father fell in love with it. Maybe he was a fool, a daydreamer, but he believed in the dream. He had just lost Inger and was still so sad. But he did it! A paradise on earth – Ponderosa.

Both of the ladies in my life have woken, and I have their breakfast ready and on the table for them. I love them so much. For once, they've succeeded in getting quickly. As they walk into the kitchen, I realize how very lovely they both look.

"You are both amazing. I apologize for thinking the two of you could never be ready on time. I acted badly. I was wrong. I will never laugh at you again."

Laura says nothing but lets me know with a wide grin that she has triumphed. I draw her close and give her a little smack on her seat.

"Hey, what are you doing, Adam Cartwright?"

"I...oh, nothing, I was just smoothing out a crease in your dress. These new designers..."

"A wrinkle? Is that the reason you gave me a little slap?"

"Yes, and the back's not bad either. It's just not cut low enough. My dear, why don't you wear that beautiful pink dress?"

"You mean the one I wore to our engagement party last spring? The one where I had to dance with everyone including your father because you neglected to show up?"

"We aren't going to discuss that again are we? It was all a big mistake, but everything is fine now."

"A mistake! Is that what you are calling it? And may I remind you that you are the one that brought it up. And for your information, that is not the proper dress to wear on the day of the Lord."

"What's the problem with the Lord's day?

"It's blasphemy! It isn't a decent dress and would be bad manners to be seen in it on the Lord's day."

"Well pardon me, my dear. Excuse my language, but I don't think the Lord would take offence to a beautiful woman in a beautiful dress. It is to honor Him to show off the beauty of one of his creatures."

"That's enough Adam Cartwright. Go on and hitch up the buggy and quit talking nonsense that would make a green lizard turn red. Your brothers and father are waiting for us."

It doesn't take us long to reach Virginia City as the horses are lively and spirited. I keep turning around to check on Peggy to make sure she is all right.

"Adam, can I go play with the others. Joe promised to take us around and..."

"Let's see if it's allright with your uncle, Peggy."

"But he promised, and I know he will make good on a promise."

"Peggy, I said we'll see." I didn't raise my voice, but I want this young lady to understand that it's the adults who will decide.

We arrive in front of the church that is used daily as a schoolhouse. I see other families from Virginia City and the surrounding ranches pulling up in their buggies. I jump out of ours and help Laura down. As men, we are very lucky because our wives are wearing long dresses and need our help. I love that. I reach out and put my hands around Laura's waist to lift her out and set her on her feet next to me. My Laura is so light, so pretty, and I love her so much. She holds her head so very gracefully. She is the most beautiful woman in all of Nevada. She had beautiful hands that I can't see under her black lace gloves. Black as the mantilla she has put on her blonde hair. I have to admit that I keep my hands around her waist longer than I should, but no one seems to notice as they head for the church.

"Hey Adam," cries Peggy, "Can I get down, please?"

"Sure, Peggy. Let me help you."

"Adam, I see Joe. I need to tell him something."

"Wait a minute, young lady. Not until you speak to your grandfather." I wait for a reply. "I can't hear you"

"Yes, Adam."

"Good girl."

Peggy walks over to my father, trying not to dirty her new dress and her new shoes. "Grandpa?"

She throws herself into my father's arms, and he holds her and gives her a big kiss.

"What a pretty young lady you are."

"Did you see my new dress?"

"Yes, and you look lovely, my dear."

"And I also have a new under dress." Peggy is so excited that she turns up her dress to show her grandfather her underclothes. Laura steps in to stop her.

"No, no, Peggy, you can't do that. You're too grown up now."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know that."

"Don't be upset, Peggy," says my father. "Your mama is right. It's her job to teach you these things. Will you make me a promise?"

"Sure, Grandpa."

"You need to obey your mama."

"Yes sir, I will."

I'm glad to see my brother, and we have a chance to talk until the Reverend rings the bell and it's time to go. Holding my hat in my hand, I follow Laura and Peggy into the church. Laura is holding my hand, and I feel her dress touching my leg. It's a pleasant feeling but I have to get those thoughts out of my mind while we are in church. I have to be patient. We will spend time together after...

Laura and I take our seats in the second row. Peggy has permission to sit between her two uncles, Hoss and Joe. Laura is situated between my father and myself, and we set her purse and my hat further down the pew.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Threat and Hope

"My dear friends. Welcome to the Lord's house..."

The Reverend Graham has asked us to pray with him, but he stops speaking as he notices Sheriff Coffee heading up the center aisle. The Sheriff has something to say.

"I hate to break in like this, Reverend, but I think you all should all know this. It's my duty to inform you that Kerryan has killed two people in Placerville, and he was last seen heading toward Virginia City. He's dangerous, and he knows he's being chased. I want you all to be alert and careful."

"Oh, my God," is murmured throughout the congregation. This is terrible news. I feel Laura's hand trembling in my own.

The Reverend continues with the sermon he had planned for this day, but no one is listening. Our minds are on this Kerryan and his foolishness.

John Graham understands that we can't sing with enthusiasm after hearing the dreadful news. I'd like to know what Kerryan has on his mind. Does he know what fear is? I have many questions. How can someone just kill another person?

Every child raised by loving parents knows right from wrong. Parents try to show this to their children with the help of teachers, love, and sometimes a spanking. I know I was raised that way, and my brothers too. My father has always lived by his principles. His principles came from the Bible and from his own father. But this Kerryan, what principles does he have? Pure profit? Gold fever? Could that lead someone to murder? I don't know. I don't understand such minds.

I know I'll be forced to kill him if he threatens my family. I think of my Laura and Peggy. I know my father and brothers are able to take care of themselves, but it would be much easier for Kerryan to take the life of women and children.

I'll never forget what happened to Hoss's mother. I don't ever want to face something like that again. The idea makes me shudder. Now that I have a family, I'm afraid. I have a wife and daughter that I alone am responsible for.

Every day with my dear love is wonderful. She's become the sunshine in my life. I used to work all day and not worry about what time I'd get home. But now, with my family waiting for me, I can't wait to get there.

The love I feel for Peggy is stronger than a blood bond. She's almost always smiling, and even if I have to sit her down for a lecture, she knows just how to charm me with her earnest face and sad eyes. I can't imagine someone destroying the happiness she's brought me. I won't accept the idea of her being threatened. She doesn't deserve it. We don't deserve it. No one deserves it.

My mind is in turmoil, and I break out in a cold sweat. I turn my head and try to catch my father's eye. I still need him. I need to see him. I need his strength and courage whenever I feel myself begin to falter.

He's always been responsible for us, in spite of everything that has happened in his life. I was only a child, but I remember his demeanor and his words in the days that followed Inger's death. He held himself tall, and he let go of his anger and desire for vengeance. That first day, he cried and shouted, "Why?" But by the next morning he was calm and serene. He told me the wind had taken his sadness and his anger.

Finally Reverend Graham finishes the service, and it's time to go. The atmosphere inside the church is heavy. Families aren't waiting around. Husbands and fathers exchange looks, but they're impatient to get their wives and children back home safely. I wait for my father, to see if he still wants to picnic.

"Yes," he tells me, "we'll go ahead with our plans to picnic so Peggy won't be disappointed."

"Oh, you know she hasn't forgotten."

"That's right, Adam. We promised her, and I won't break that promise."

"Do you think it's safe?"

"We'll watch for Kerryan. I think we should continue with our normal activities. There's no reason to panic the ladies."

"All right. If you think that's best."

I find Laura and tell her we'll go ahead and picnic. Her eyes are filled with terror as she looks at me. I gently squeeze her hand and kiss her on the cheek. "Everything will be all right. You have no need to worry, darling."

"You are right, Adam. I'm being ridiculous."

"You're not being ridiculous, sweetheart. It's completely natural to be nervous under these circumstances. I'd be more comfortable myself if this Kerryan were behind bars and not so close to our home."

We'll take the buggy up to the edge of Lake Tahoe and have a nice relaxing day. I let Peggy go with Little Joe in his buggy. She can't seem to leave him alone. My youngest brother is happy to have her, and it gives me more time with my Laura. Our time alone is so rare, and we cherish whatever moments we have together. There are always so many things I want to discuss with her, and she tells me that with Frank, she was never allowed to have an opinion. That's not how I want things to be between us. We're equal partners, a matched couple. I'll always support the decisions she makes for our home and for Peggy. I know she relies on me, but I encourage her to make her opinions known…to express herself as the lady of the house that she is. Frank's attitude is still engraved on her mind, though. It's obvious that he saw her as just a child, not a woman or a mother. I value her opinion, and I want her to know this.

Hesitantly, she asks, "Do you think it will take Sheriff Coffee and the posse long to find him?"

"I really don't know what to tell you. He's a good sheriff, and I trust him to do his best to track that man down."

"You're right. I'm sure they'll get him soon."

"I'm sure he will…"

"Are you going to join the posse?"

"I will if he asks me. So will my father, and Hoss, and Joe, and anyone else on our ranch."

"Well, then, I'm sure he'll be caught soon, with the Cartwrights in hot pursuit," she smiles.

"Thank you, dear. You flatter me." I turn her head and kiss her on the tip of her nose. "Dear Laura, I love you so much."

She answers me with a smile, and then runs her hands over her skirt, trying to stay in control.

"Mrs. Cartwright, I think you're blushing."

"Maybe I'm hot."

"Yes, maybe." I'm not fooled. I know exactly what she feels. In truth, I feel the same way. But I won't let my emotions take over, not yet. We'll have our picnic and then this evening she'll be all mine. In the meantime, though...well, it's difficult.

I drive slowly, and we arrive a full fifteen minutes after my father and brothers. Pa looks at us questioningly. Hoss gives me a silly grin and comes up behind me as I lift Laura out of the buggy. "You give her that 'need to check the harness' line, Adam?"

"That's none of your business. I didn't see any need to rush."

Hoss walks away, laughing. He heads over to help Pa unload planks and Hop Sing's goodies from the buggy.

"I thought it would be nice if we could sit at a table," Pa explains, nodding at the planks. He bellows, "Joe, can you help us?"

Joe, who has started a game of horseshoes with Peggy, bends over and whispers in her ear, "Wait here for me. I need to help my father, and then I'll be back."

"It seems to me that Grandfather has a deeper voice when he wants something done. Even Adam obeys him," Peggy whispers back.

"That's true, Peggy. That's because Grandfather is our Pa, and we'll always obey him."

"Then there's no need to grow up."

Joe bursts out laughing, and when he walks up behind me he's still laughing. "I love that little girl. She's incredible. She understands everything, much more than most kids her age. I think, big brother, you're going to have to watch this one, or you're going to have problems with her."

"Thanks so much for you fatherly advice, little brother, but I know exactly how to handle her, and she knows it."

In only a few minutes we have the table set up for six people. Hop Sing outdid himself with cold meat, crisp corn, and red beans. Laura has made her special apple pies that Hoss can't seem to take his eyes off of. The grownups have beer, and Joe makes a lemon squash for Peggy. We bow our heads as Pa thanks the Lord for the food before us and asks Him to always be with us at our table.

Laura's pies are a success with everyone, especially my largest brother. I try to convince them that I helped Laura make them. Finally she speaks up and reminds me that all I was good for was getting flour all over the place. "Well, the flour was necessary, right?" I say defensively.

"You always have an answer to everything, don't you? Mr. Cartwright, your son is nothing but a scamp. Don't listen to him when he says he helped me. He only made a big mess for me to clean up in my kitchen."

"I'm not surprised, my dear Laura. May I remind you that I raised your husband? My sons used to spend a lot of time in the kitchen—Joe and Adam always squabbling over something, and Hoss eating. That is, until Hop Sing would catch them and run them out."

"Grandfather, did you have to spank Adam very often?"

My father starts laughing as he looks at Peggy with a mischievous smile. "Maybe I'll tell you a little story."

"Oh, no, Pa, please don't tell her about that," I beg.

"Is there something you need to hide, my dear husband? Looking at your face, I think so," Laura teases.

"Absolutely not."

"I'm quite certain you have much to hide."

My dear Laura smiles, and I see that she's thoroughly enjoying teasing me. Life will never be boring with my new wife. Ben pulls Peggy up on his lap and steadies her by resting his hand on her back.

"Let me tell you, Peggy, when your father was maybe five or six, he attended school in this little town where we were spending the winter. He was so happy to be in school, and so eager to learn. Well, one day we were living in a hotel where I had rented a room for Adam and me," he explained. "One evening we were downstairs in the hotel restaurant. The only other occupants were an old man, a young man, and a woman. Suddenly, Adam began to shout, 'Pa, Pa, that woman there.' He proceeded to point in her direction. 'She's a witch. Pa, look, she's the same one that was in the book the teacher showed us. Pa, we gotta get out a here. I'm scared of her.' Adam was shouting, and everyone was watching. It was quite unpleasant for me."

"What did you do, Grandfather?"

"Well, I picked Adam up, and we left the restaurant as quickly as we could. I tried to explain to him that the woman wasn't a witch, she was just in mourning. Her husband had died, and that's why she was dressed all in black."

"Then what?"

"I walked back into the restaurant with Adam, so he could apologize and we could finish our dinner."

"Oh, Pa, I was just little, and..."

"I know, Adam. You didn't understand, and that's why you weren't punished."

We all sit back, and everyone has a good laugh at my expense. I hope Pa hasn't given Peggy any ideas. She's not a naughty girl, but I could see her pulling pranks…especially since she spends a lot of time with her Uncle Joe, and he could teach her things I don't think I want her to know. Laura serves us cups of coffee and brings Peggy a small glass of water, when suddenly something distracts us. A horse is galloping towards us, and it's obvious the man is not out for a pleasure ride. As he gets closer, we see that it's Roy Coffee. Pa sets Peggy aside and stands up to greet Roy.

"Roy, I'm surprised to see you out here. Would you like some coffee?"

"Thanks, Ben, these dusty roads..."

"What brings you out here in such a hurry?"

"I hate to bring you such bad news while you're out here enjoying yourselves, but it involves this Kerryan feller."

"Go on."

"A woman's body was just found, Ben. Looks like she was on the stage when it was held up. I'm thinking she was killed right off."

"Do we know who she was, Roy?"

"No, she's a stranger to me, Ben. It's getting late now. Too late to track, but I want to start off first thing in the morning. Can I count on you and the boys?"

"Of course you can. We'll head out first thing."

"Thanks, Ben. I knew I could count on you all."

Roy hands his empty cup over Laura and nods his thanks. He mounts up and heads back into town. We're all pretty much speechless, stunned by what we've just heard.

Tomorrow I'll have to go with Roy Coffee. But now I'm holding Laura in my arms. We're lying in bed, and I'm looking at her with as much tenderness as passion. I want to memorize her body, her eyes, and her face, and keep them always in my mind. I don't know what will happen tomorrow. Maybe I will die. I have to help Roy Coffee, it's my responsibility as citizen. But I know I'm risking my neck.

Wearing a Colt doesn't make a man immortal. My father has always told us that. That's why he forbade us to have a gun until we were fifteen. I remember when my father gave me permission to have one. I had to listen to a very long lecture about responsibility, self-control, and violence. He wanted to be sure he wasn't making a mistake, that I was mature enough to have that gun. As my father, he took on an enormous responsibility by giving me something that could take a life. I hope I'll always be a man he can be proud of.

I touch Laura's smooth skin, and she closes her eyes and smiles. This night, before tomorrow's danger, belongs to us. I want to enjoy every second. Anything could happen tomorrow. I know I shouldn't think about it, but I can't get out of my mind what Roy told us...I see blood, violence, sorrow, and desperation...

"Adam, what's the matter?"

"Sorry, I can't help thinking of what Roy said. I'm thinking of this poor woman, and of you and Peggy...And I'm thinking of Kerryan."

"He's alone, against all of you. He can't do anything."

I raise my voice without meaning to. "A desperate man can be very dangerous, Laura!"

"Don't shout at me, Adam! It's not my fault."

"I'm sorry, I'm just nervous. I'm so afraid. He may kill my father or my brothers."

"Adam, don't worry. I know you'll act quickly if you need to. I love you, I trust you. That's all that's important."

At this moment I'm almost ashamed; what sort of man am I? A yellow chicken? It seems Laura senses my embarrassment; she puts her hand in my hair and tries to reassure me; her hand is warm, and I enjoy it.

"Adam, look at me. Don't let any doubt grow stronger. That could destroy you. I trust you. I know your qualities, and you'll be a great help for Roy, and you'll come back to me afterward."

"How can you so be sure?"

"I know it, that's all. It's instinct." She smiles mysteriously. "I'm like a she-wolf hiding in her lair with her babies."

"Laura, what are you trying to say to me?"

"You are going to be a father, Adam Cartwright."

I don't know what to say. I hide my face in my hands and begin to weep. It should be happy news, but I can't enjoy it. There's a weight in my chest that is suffocating me. Laura takes me in her arms, and I bury my head in her shoulder and let the tears come.

"Oh Laura, I...it's...but..."

"Shh, Adam, don't say anything. Everything will be all right. I'm in great shape, and I know it will turn out fine. It's so different from the first time…you love me, and that gives me strength. I feel so good about this pregnancy; I'm at peace with it. Now, tomorrow you'll go and help the Sheriff, and then you'll come back, and everything will be all right."

"Yes, you're right. When I hear you talk like this, I feel like I deserve a good kick in the behind. I don't have the right to feel sorry for myself."

"And why not? Listen to me, Adam; you had to let it out. You must promise me to stay like that: tender and sensitive. I love you for your doubts, your weaknesses, and even your fears. Don't barricade your heart; all that logic you hide behind isn't a good protection."

"I promise, my dear Laura."

And in the pale starlight, we find sleep, and we get a well deserved rest. Tomorrow will come soon...

It's almost two o'clock in the afternoon when I finally get down from my horse. I'm thirsty, coated with dust, and exhausted. Roy made us ride hard through the mountains with only short breaks to stretch and gulp lukewarm water from our canteens. Then it was, "Back in the saddle, and move out again, quick."

I'm so tired, I almost fall out of the saddle. It's a wonder nobody got hurt today. I take my time as I rub down Sport, and gladly give him a double ration of oats. He's worked hard for me today, through brambles, over stones, and through swiftly flowing streams.

A stalked man, even if he knows the territory, can make a bad decision when he becomes thirsty. Hunger can be fought off, but not thirst. I slip off my filthy jacket and boots and leave them outside before I enter my house. I quietly open the door and close it slowly behind me. I set my hat and gunbelt on the sideboard to my left, a ritual when I enter my home. I leave my worries there for now. Now I am home in my cocoon. I missed my family during those long hours out there with the posse. I walk into the living room and see Peggy, the young lady that pulls at my heart. I pick her up and hold her close to me for the longest time.

"Hi, little darling. I'm very happy to see you."

"You left us for a long time, Adam. You weren't here when I woke up this morning."

"I know, and I'm sorry. I would have preferred staying here with you. I really didn't have a good day. But how about you?"

"I had school this morning."

"Is Mama here?"

"She's in the kitchen. I think she's sad, Adam. Her eyes are all red. I was real quiet. I didn't make any noise."

I head into the kitchen and see Laura, wiping a glass and staring at nothing. I rest my hands on her hips. Laura is small-waisted, but she still wears a corset. I hope she will give that up soon, so I can watch her stomach grow with my child. My son or daughter can't come soon enough for me.

"Oh Adam, here you are. I was so anxious."

"Please Laura, don't worry so much. It's not good for you or the baby."

"Adam, how can you say that? Do you think it's possible for me to choose how I feel? Feelings are in our hearts…fear, anger, sorrow or joy, they all belong to us and I can't help showing mine!" I pull her to me, and she startles me by beating my chest with her fists.

"Hey, what happened to you?"

"Oh, Adam, I went to the funeral of that woman that was killed. I had Mrs. Jackson take care of Peggy after school was over."

"Maybe you should have stayed home, Laura. After all…" But I stop when Laura give me a fierce look.

"I felt I had to be there for her husband. He was so strong. He said beautiful things and gave us each a white rose to lay on the casket. It was very touching. He had the courage to speak about the love he still felt for his dear Angelina. He explained that he came to the funeral without hate. He had to rid himself of his anger or he would go mad. He told us that anger had no place at his wife's grave site. Then he gave us a pebble and asked us to throw it far behind us to empty our souls. Even the Reverend Graham was impressed. He had never seen this type of ritual, but I must say, it was helpful."

"You've given me gooseflesh, Laura. But I can't believe you went. You're a generous woman, though, so it shouldn't surprise me."

"I'm a lucky woman, and I'm aware of my happiness, and it makes me sensitive to the distress of others. I know if I don't show my feelings, a part of me will have died." I have no answer for this, so I take my wife in my arms and cry silent tears with her.

I don't know how long we stay like that. Time has stopped. There is no manhunt anymore, no more mourning. There is only the power of love, and of feelings, and the knowledge of a new life that grows inside its mother.

After dinner, Laura cleans off the table and starts washing up the dishes. I take the dishcloth from her and turn to Peggy. "Please set your papers out for me, Peggy. I want to take a quick look at your homework."

"Okay, Adam."

"What are you studying?"

"I have arithmetic and writing."

"Okay, where do you want to begin?"

"I want to do my arithmetic first. I love it when I get it right!"

"That's good, Peggy. Why don't you show me?"

Peggy opens up her book and takes out her papers. It's a very pretty book with illustrations, and Peggy is very proud to have won first place in math. Miss Jenkins congratulated her and said that it was rare that a first year student would get a 98% on her test.

"What I don't understand is dozens and units, Adam."

"You tell me what you do understand, and we'll go from there. There are exercises that we can do."

"Well, I have to count these pearls. I have to put them in piles of twelve, and this is called a dozen."

I watch as Peggy counts out her pearls and draws a circle around them. Then she makes an arrow and writes down the number twelve. Then she does it again and again, until there are no more pearls.

"That's it Adam. I'm finished. There are five packets of twelve, seven left over. So that's sixty-seven pearls, and I write the answer. There is sixty-seven pearls."

"You can't write it like that, Peggy."

"Well there is sixty-seven pearls."

"You have to write there 'are' sixty-seven pearls, Peggy, because it's plural."

"What is?"

"Well you've counted the pearls, and there are several."

"I remember now. Miss Jenkins made us learn plurals, like 'there is' or 'there are,' right?"

It's great to work with Peggy. She has such a quick mind. She's curious and interested in many different things, just like I was. I was so eager to learn, and my father had so many nice stories to tell me when I was young. I was so anxious to learn how to read.

"Let's do your writing now. What do you need to write?"

"I already did it. See? Read this acrostic poem I wrote."

"That's a hard bit of writing."

"Oh, no, it wasn't. The teacher gave us a sample of one."

In her notebook, I discover a small poem with the word "mommy" written vertically. What follows is absolutely adorable.

My mom is nice

Oh she loves

Me so

Much. And

Yes, I love her too.

Morning comes again. I slept very well last night; my sleep wasn't disturbed by morbid visions. Laura is tired, very tired. Last night she fell asleep even before her head hit the pillow. I was busy working with Peggy when I noticed Laura nose diving on the settee, and I sent her off to bed. When I crawled into bed and stretched out, she was already in a deep sleep. I couldn't resist the temptation to touch her rounded stomach. I put my lips to her navel and said good night to our baby.

I supposed that sounds strange, but it doesn't feel that way. I tell myself that this small baby can hear my voice...and then I'm distracted by the thought of Roy and the others. They intrude on my thoughts as I try to stay focused on this vision of my baby. I'm so impatient to hold the baby in my arms. So ready to hold it against me and enjoy the fresh, clean baby scent.

"Hi, men. Are you ready to leave? We aren't going to waste time standing here talking. Every minute wasted is a minute more for Kerryan. Just remember, he's being stalked, he's armed, and he's ready for anything. So be careful," announces Roy.

His speech is short and to the point. I realize none of us wants to be here, but we have to. The men all look reluctant to continue the search. I wonder how I appear. Can they read the joy that is mine, or the terror that tries to make me falter? I don't know. And my father? What does he think of all of this? Nothing shows on his face, but I know him well. I know he would give his life so that none of his sons would be in danger. But I know that my brothers and I all wish Pa were home at the ranch. We're so connected as brothers that we usually have the same thoughts.

Two and a half hours pass before Roy gives us a break. We all sit down for a cup of coffee, some biscuits, and some jerky. We cross a stream and are now on John Andrew's property. His animals are grazing in the early morning light.

"Look there! There's somebody." Roy points his finger downstream, and we see a silhouette. It's the back of a man. He's rather stocky and is squatting by the water to fill his canteen.

"What do you suggest, Roy?" Pa asks.

"Well, we need to stop him. He looks exhausted. Just look at him. He's not even trying to hide. He's right out in the open getting water. All sorts of people cross the stream here. And the stage runs right up the hill on that road."

Roy mounts up and motions for us to do the same. Checking our guns, we climb back on our horses and follow Roy. He heads straight for Kerryan. The galloping horses draw his attention and he stands up, clutching his canteen, and takes off running. He's tired and stumbles repeatedly, but still he tries to get away.

I feel my heart pounding so hard in my chest. I'm filled with adrenalin as I realize the danger. Nobody knows yet what will take place. No one speaks, but we're all thinking the same thing. I see Hoss and Joe coming up beside me, and Pa quickly rides past us. He doesn't want his sons to take risks, so he places himself next to Roy. They're close in age and can read each other's thoughts with just a look or gesture.

"We're going to circle around him," Roy shouts. "Hoss, Joe, you two head out and block the road. Adam, Morgan, and John, you take off to the right. Ben, you stay with me. You and I'll get him, and I need you to keep me from bashing his head in."

"Count on us, Roy," I say. I send Sport into a gallop in the direction Roy told us. Along with the other two men, I sneak up behind Kerryan. We're within range when I hear the gunshot. I feel violent pain, and I fall from my horse.

Somebody speaks to me. I see a silhouette hovering above me. I see a bit of light, but the silhouette is somewhat vague.

"You fly nicely. It's been a long time since I've seen you sprawled out like that."

I know this voice, and it's not the voice of God…though I've never met Him. No, it's not God; that much I'm sure of. There's only one person who has that stance and that voice: Benjamin Cartwright, my father. I run my hand down my left side and stand up slowly. I'm as weak as a newborn colt. Obviously, I can move, and there's no violent pain, no vertigo. I look at my right hand and find no blood there. Is it possible I'm not hurt at all? I find that difficult to believe. I remember hearing a gunshot, I'm sure of it.

"Okay, Pa, I'm fine. I think I may have seen all the colors of the rainbow, and I ended up with red. I'm sure that's the color of my thigh…unless it's blue and purple."

"I'm glad you can joke about it. I guess your brain is intact," Pa says drily.

I rub my hand up and down my thigh, then dust off my shirt, finding a good sized rip. Guess my sweetheart Laura is going to have some mending to do. I pick up my hat and plop it on my head. "No problem, all right?" I say.

Then I turn. I stop suddenly when I see a man lying still on the ground. I can't take my eyes off of him.

"He…he's…dead? Who is he? One of our men?"

"No," Joe steps in putting his hand on my shoulder. "It's Kerryan. I don't know who shot him. We all pulled our guns and everyone seemed to shoot at once."

"I was lucky," I say. "One of those bullets could have hit me."

Hoss and Joe look at me and burst out laughing. Maybe they shouldn't laugh at this moment. But it's a nervous laugh. The worst is behind us now. Kerryan won't be a threat any more. We can all be happy about that. I can't help but think of the man whose name I don't even know, who lost his wife and will never see her again…all because of this monster.

Now Kerryan is lying here on the ground, killed by one of us, but it's not me lying there. I could have been the target. I realize that I had a brush with death. A bullet could have killed me, or even the fall I took could have done it. It's a miracle that I'm alive. It wasn't my time, and I'm happy to say I'm alive. Somehow, the air I sniff has a different smell than before.

It's time to return home. Roy wraps up the dead man, and he dangles over the back of Roy's horse…the man that made us spend countless hours chasing him. We can now return to Virginia City.

"Okay, men," says Roy, "I owe you all a beer in the saloon."

No one refuses the offer, and we head in that direction. I agree, thinking I'm the one who deserves it the most. But I know what they're all thinking: that I'm married now to the 'old ball and chain,' and can't stop in with friends for a beer.

"You are not afraid what your wife will say, Adam?" Joe teases.

"No, I can come and go as I please."

"That's true, big brother," Hoss says. "You married a gem. It wouldn't have been the same if you'd married the daughter of O'Toole. You would have come home, and she would have welcomed you with a brass frying pan."

"You two stop it. I'm thirsty."

The same old jokes, just a waste of time. I head to the saloon with my Pa and brothers and the rest of the posse. Roy tells us to go ahead without him. He has a delivery to make to the undertaker.

Roy's offer is much appreciated. A cold beer always sounds good. No one really wants to talk about what happened today, not even the Cartwrights. We're all anxious to get home. It won't be long before everyone knows Kerryan has been killed, and I don't want to be around to answer a bunch of questions. I glance at Pa, and I know he feels the same.

This isn't the first time we've been included in a posse, and it won't be the last. There are people out there who want to hear all the gory details, and I just don't want to be a part of that.

Pa and I are finished with our beers and turn to leave, but then Pa changes his mind and turns to his youngest son. "Joe, don't come home late. There are a lot of fence repairs that you'll be doing tomorrow. Early tomorrow. They won't fix themselves, you know."

"Yes, Pa, I won't be late."

"And young man, I don't want to see Roy having to bring you home. Do I make myself clear?"

"I promise, Pa. I won't get drunk."

"I don't want to hear any promises you can't keep, son. And what are your plans, Hoss?"

"I guess I'm heading home with you, Pa. I saw Hop Sing cleaning chickens this morning, and…"

Pa's roar of laughter erupts before Hoss can finish his sentence. The three of us head out of town, and at the top of the hill we part. Hoss and Pa head off towards the Ponderosa, and I turn and head home.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3 : A PLACE IN FAMILY**

I arrive in front of our home, I am impatient to hug my wife. I know she will be very happy, when I will told her, that this horrible history is ended. She will be more serene and it is so important that she feels well. I would like to spare him worries and infamy; so that she will have a pregnancy without conflicts and without disappointments... I grew without mother; Hoss also, we both know what it is to live with this huge space. But today I am not any more a kid, I am a man who does not want to have to raise a child without his mother... And once again, the face of my father prints in my mind. He was so happy expecting a first baby but he had to close the eyes of the one to whom he had crossed a gold ring. And I do not want that Laura dies by giving life. Yes I am afraid, because I have the strange feeling that a kind of curse weighs on conjugal happiness by Cartwrights. My father; three times widowed, three wives died prematurely, I am afraid that it would happen again... How to tame this deaf anxiety, and especially how to exceed it? I have no power, I have only the force of pray. My studies wn't help me, I am not doctor, I can build houses, mills, I can fabricate systems of irrigation and of framework; but I will not be able to confine a hemorrhage in the belly of my wife. And it is the major risk of deliveries there. What about convulsions which often draw come away in fatal exit. To give life is a marvellous act , but it is still punctuated with decease.

When will I forget my anxiety? I am unaware of it. It is indisputable that I will better feel once danger moved aside. I want a nice child in good health and that my wife recovers fast... Is it too much to ask lord? I beg pardon; I dare to invoke the sky to ask. I admit that my request is not completely made lose interest. But this time, I pray you lord, protect my dear Laura and keep living.. I didn' have known my mother, do not let an innocent person endure the same. And do not deprive me of the presence of my loving and dear Laura; spare her... Let this kid open his eyes on the nicest picture which is: the face of his mother. Give him the possibility drinking milk of the one who will have carried it. Hear the call of one poor guy; who couldn't to be rocked by the arms of the one who gave birth to him. Do not put down on shoulders of a newborn baby the non-verbal guilt of this such violent disappearance. Yes my mom died as I was born... I have to live with it, I don't want that for my child...

I raise eyes in the sky and search a divine presence in this blue ennuagée immensity... I dare to hope that my request will go up to the firmament and that it will be heard. It is the only thing which I can make, and of blow I better feel, as liberated from a weight.

I drive my horse to the stable, I rub him down, I give him a double ration of oats and I head for the home...

« Not but it is not possible»...

I've heard Lauras voice before I push the door...

I expect everything; but when I see what I see, I tell myself that I was very underneath the truth. A thick black smoke frees from the kitchen, there is something that is burning in the oven. It had to be succulent, it had to be because it is charred. Peggy is sitting down, prostrate against the wall, with a cloth with dishes around her arm...

- Euh, Adam, do you want to take care of Peggy?

- what's the matter?

- She cut her hand with a knife...

I put on as high as the young lady; she sobs slowly.

- Peggy, you show me this cut?

- No, this is going to hurt. No Adam;

- Slowly, Peggy, let at me look...

Delicately, I take the cloth away... She has a cut in the right palm; but nothing deep... Bleeding has stopped ...

- OK, my darling; do not get worried... Everything will be allright. Come with me, you are going to wash your hands and I am going to make you a pretty dressing.

- Adam, meal is very burnt.

Peggy starts crying... I take her in my arms, she sobs on my shirt... I fondle slowly through her hair...

- chhhhht, Peggy... It's ok it's not your fault

- Mummy is mad... because I cut myself. But I wanted to cut some bread.

Laura bends down and kisses her daughter.

-My darling, I was irritated, excuse me for having shouted... I was exasperated because I let burn the patty and I was very afraid by seeing that you had cut yourself... OK, we are going to say that we are having a bad day..

.. Two incidents in ten minutes, it is a bad starting... Let us hope that this is going to go...

At this instant, I stand up to accompany Peggy in the room to make her dressing, but my head knocks in the corner of the wooden table. Pain is violent; I sit down again.

-And the third has just happened.

Laura and Peggy burst out laughing; but I do not laugh... I have a headache!

I have my second shock of the day; I said nothing to Peggy and to Laura of my fall of horse, but I still feel it... And now, I have a headache.

- Take that Adam. Put this on your head.

Laura tightens me a wet linen and I put it on my head... that hurts.

- You have a bump?

- oh I think so.

And I take the cloth away, Laura tate me the forehead.

- Yes you have a cocard ... My poor Adam

- can you stop laughing at me,; Laura... I've no head but a pumpkin

- Owl, mom, that's great... If Adam has a pumpkin, you can us it to coock...

- Oh how dare you .

I put her accross my knee. I'm pretending to give her a good spanking, but it's a game... And I start to tickle her...

- Wait, you will see something.. You have no right to tease me... 0

- Stop Adam, please don't... My hand, it hurts...

- ok, I want you to say that you're sorry... Or I tickle you again...

- Pardonnnnnnnnnnnnnnn, Adam, stop...

Laura looks at us with an entertained air...

- ok, we have to talk seriously... There's nothing to eat...

- yes, we can choose between Patty in ash or pork calcined ...

- Very funny AHAHAHAH...

- OK, listen; you know what? We are going to the Ponderosa. Hop Sing always prepares more...

- , Adam, I just can't do that...

- Oh we will find something to say...

- HANNNNN, Adam; you will tell a lie to grand-father ?

- Yes, you are right my darling; excuse me. I don't have to..

I do not miss to greet full remark of the little girl. She has just taken me in the act of dishonesty.

- Peggy, go and wash your hands and your mom is going to make you a dressing. And I am going to harness the buggy, ok?

- Ok; Adam...

I wait that she goes up to the floor and I take Laura in my arms and kisses her tenderly.

- Finally, a little of peace.

- Excuse me Adam, I am sorry.

- But do not apologise; my nice. That will happen again, and it is only a patty...

- And Kerryan?

- dead, he has been killed by the sheriff.

I don't want to describ all details of the manhunt. She would be very anxious to know that I nearly was touched and that I fell from horse.

- this is there, my hands are washed.

Laura takes a clean and made linen a dressing to Peggy. We all take clothes and we go out.

- I am ashamed to leave the kitchen in this state.

- we will take care of it later. Now let's go to eat...

So we left towards Ponderosa, after I took the time to harness Sports in the buggy. The poor hors, he will not have had a lot of time to have a rest... It will blow with Cochise and Buck in the barn, it surely kept to it its lock-up box and its habits...

I stop the buggy in the court of the ranch, I jump down and head for the righthand of the car. I grab Laura by size and brings her near me... When I want to catch Peggy, she pushes back my hand.

« No, Adam, I go down all alone.

- I do not prefer, Peggy; give me your hand.

Peggy decides to hear nothing and undertakes to go down alone. Patatras, she stumbles on the buggy, maybe because of her dress and is about to fall... Fortunately I did not have moved , soI can stop his fall... I put her on her feet and give her the look... and she hears a lecture:

-You deliberately desobeyed me... You could have been injuried...Next time, girl, you make what I say to you... Enough disasters for today.

-Peggy, Adam is right... If we give you an advice, you must follow it...

- but I am big enough.

- Peggy, that's enough.

I stay out that..Laura takes out there very well. His voice is firm and his attitude firm enough.

- OK, now we can come in ?

I take Laura by the arm and we head for the door. I hit and open the door at the same time.

- Adam, Laura; what a big surprise; come in

Pa already rushed to us; I shake his hand and move back to let through Laura. Pa kisses her warmly.

- Dear Laura, how are you?

- Very well, well, thank you... And you?

- I 'm fine thanks... Hello, my dear Peggy.

He bends down and takes Peggy in the arms and removal on the cheeks a sound kiss.

- You know grandfather, there is nothing to eat; mom made burn the patty and then, Adam he knocked his head in the table, even that he had the head like a pumkin...

I have to laugh, my father has such a face... He is a bit stunned so to speak, he also, by all words heh as heard.

- well well; if I understand well, you did not have eaten?

- No, pa can we share your meal?

- bah, stupid question, of course... Go come, Hop Sing, please, bring three plates; Adam eats here with his small family.

- this is gleat... Mrs Caltwlight will tly Peking Duck

- Peking Duck , Ho Hop Sing, how did you guess, it is my favourite meal?

- Hop Sing has good infolmations... »he answers with a small mischievous air...

I go up with Joe to the floor to go to search two other chairs, which we top up around the table... Peggy seats down next to Joe, it is her official place... Laura is situated to the right of my father and I slip near her. In front of me, there is Hoss and therefore Joe, and Peggy, already with a plate full of raw vegetables in front of the nose... All its emotions gave her hunger; and she enjoys the food... She asks again twice and for Hoss, of course is delighted to give her :

- Eat. but keep a place for dessert...

Really, the Peking duck is a pure wonder... We love.

- Hop Sing, it is a delight... Believe me, I am ready to make burn my patty more often, only to have the pleasure of savouring your kitchen. Thank you.

- Hop Sing always says : the best thanks ale empty plates... Hop Sing happy, if you have enjoyed it.

- enjoyed ?; it is underneath the truth; dear Hop Sing...

I take my glass of wine and raise it:

- Let us toast in Hop Sing...

And we give this minute to Hop Sing. I see how much he is embarrassed. I know that my father considers him as member of the family, not as a servant, and believe me, it was always like that. My brothers and I would not have dared in lacking respect in Hop Sing, my father would have scolded us and washed us the mouth with the soap... I know something about it, because I very well remember having seen Joe suffering this treatment. I know how much Hop Sing is affected and honours, he cannot help thinking of some of his "brothers" who are exploited and ill-treated by respectable notables. Old bourgeois with a bean instead of the brain and stones instead of the heart, and that despise all those which are not like them. Types like this old PHILIP BER, he has much money than pa; but it is some dirty money, made dirty by meanness and by perfidy... He is selfish, sees only his benefit and his personal interests...We are going to have to burden ourselves with his presence, in two days, during metting in city... It bores me to go, only because of him there...

- I end my toast and we put down our glasses.

Hop Sing appleciates the toast... Thanks mistel Caltwight. Now Hop Sing will bling coffee to the living loom.»

Very good idea, greeted by all. And especially by Peggy. She has enough beeing on her chair. His mother and I give her a double look.

« you do not forget anything, girl?

- Well not, I finished my plate.

- Yes, but we would like that you ask us for the permission to go out of table.

- Yes,. Mom, can I go there?

- Yes. You can go outside.

- Thank you mom.

Laura smiles at Peggy as she grabs her coat and heads outside. Pa watches her leave and tells us what he is feeling at the moment.

"You know, I really like that little girl. She is so spontaneous. She has been a wonderful gift to me. But don't get me wrong boys. I don't have any regret in having three boys. I was filled with happiness at each of your births. There are a lot of men that envy my happiness.

"Now my friend Don Luis would not agree with me. He is happy to have his two daughters, even more so now that they are both married."

Hop Sing scurries in with the coffee and suggests that we have our coffee in the living room. I stand up and pull the chair out for Laura. She starts to get up and she puts her hand up to her forehead.

"Oh Adam, I don't feel good. I am so dizzy."

"Here, sit back down."

"It's nothing really. It will pass."

"How about a little sugar water?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

I stop Hop Sing and grab the sugar bowl off his tray. I quickly stir it into Laura's water glass. I hold the glass up for her and she takes little sips and takes time to breath deeply.

"I want you to lay down for a while Laura."

I pick my wife up and Pa opens the door to the little guest room next to us and I carry her in and lay her down on the bed. She closes her eyes and tells me she feels better already. I kneel down and run my hand over her forehead and kiss her on the cheek. I whisper into her ear.

"You need to loosen you clothes a bit otherwise the baby will be very weak at birth."

"Adam," she laughs, " You exaggerate. When I see the size of your brother, I think I might have trouble with the delivery. But on the Dayton side of the family, there were mainly smaller babies. Maybe this one will be somewhere in the middle."

I smile at her and leave her to rest for a while. I join my father and brothers back in the living room. I want her to have a quiet sleep. Pa hands me a cup of coffee and I sit down in my familiar blue chair.

"Future daddy needs to sit down."

"How did you know, Pa?"

"Well incase you have forgotten, I have been through this three times. I don't think I am mistaken in thinking another Cartwright is on it's way."

"Yes…"

"Hey big brother. Aren't you happy?"

"Of course I am Hoss. I guess I just worry about things. But on a lighter note, it also means you two will become uncles."

"I consider it my duty to teach this new little Cartwright everything he needs to know," said Joe.

"You can stop right there little brother. I'm not going to let you corrupt my first child. I already have concerns about Peggy spending too much time with you."

"Hey brother, that's what uncles are for."

"Just try not to forget you are an adult and she is just a child. You have to be a responsible adult Joe."

"Responsibility? Joe?"

Hoss and I exchanged a look and we both burst out laughing. We know our little brother. Youthful, carefree and a bit of a player. Not to mention a practical joker who will give this new Cartwright way to many ideas.

"While you two old men sit there and think of reasons why I won't be the perfect uncle, I think I will go out with Peggy. I think we will take a little walk."

"Good idea Joe. Oh and thanks for keeping an eye on her. I'm going to check on Laura."

"I'm glad you realize that I do have a sense of responsibility Adam."

"Joe, please don't use words you don't know the meaning of."

I duck just in time to miss the pillow Joe hurls at my head. Somehow Pa doesn't see the humor.

"Joseph," he bellows, "pillows stay on the sofa. If you feel the need to throw something, throw words, not pillows. Is that clear?"

"Yessir."

Joe quickly plops his hat on his head and throws his jacket over his shoulder and slips out the front door. I head into the room to check on Laura. She is sound asleep with one hand on her forehead and the other resting on her stomach. I smile at the sight. The only time she was more lovely was our wedding day. She wore a dress of unbleached silk. I remember the emotion in her quivering voice and listening to the words the reverend spoke. We had him read a passage from Corinthians. It has always been a favorite of my father's and I wanted to hear those words again on my wedding day.

_Love is patient, love is kind,  
It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.  
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking,  
It is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.  
Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth.  
It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  
__Love never fails._

In this little room where my wife sleeps, there is a plaque on the wall with these words. I can't help but reread them in silence. To always remember them and be true to my dear Laura. I close my eyes and momentarily and ask of our Lord to guide me.

I like these times when I can reach into my own soul. I am not one to show my feeling outwardly but I am trying more and more. Laura helps me to do that. She is getting me to open up and tell her what weighs heavy on me. I know how much her presence helps me. She is a mix of force and sensitivity, fragility and serenity.  
I hear noise in the other room and I leave my moment of reflection behind and walk out to see what's going on. Joe pulls me across the room and calmly speaks words I will never forget.

"I don't know where Peggy is."

Joe and I immediately head out the front door. "Peggy…Peggy! Where are you? Peggy?" I scream. It's useless for me to keep shouting until I'm hoarse. Joe and I scan the yard, looking around ever corner and behind every tree and shrub. It seems she has gone out of range to here us.

Joe rushes into the barn to saddle the horses. We can't let her get any farther away. Pa opens the front door and asks me where she is. I answer him with a shake of my head. "I have no idea. I don't even know where to start looking. I grab my hat and buckle on my gunbelt when I hear Laura's voice and I stop and look up.

"Adam, what's happening? I heard you shouting."

"We can't find Peggy. She's not out in front."

"Is she in the barn?"

"No, we have called for her everywhere. I'm sure she would have answered us."

"Never before has she hidden from me and not answered. Joe, are you going with Adam?"

"Yeah I am. You stay here with my father incase she shows up back here. You shouldn't be riding anyway."

I kiss Laura tenderly and tell her we'll find her. Laura seems really calm under the circumstances. I was worried about her reaction. I think she is handling it better than I am.

My brother has the horses saddled and we both mount up and head out of the yard. We start our search by heading up towards the lake and look for any signs along the way. If we don't see her by the time we get there we will have to make another decision. I pray that she has come this way. I can't even think about coming back to Laura without her. I'm glad Kerryan is out of the picture. I can't even imagine what thoughts would go through our minds if he was still at large. I am starting to understand what my father went through as a parent of young children and I am scared, really scared.

I have been confronted with a lot of drama in my life which tests my common sense and self control. But this is different. This involves a child. A child that I am responsible for. Laura is counting on me. I must find Peggy.

Joe and I look for clues along the way. Maybe a trace of a foot print or a piece of material from her dress, but so far nothing. We are already approaching the lake. My heart tightens up on me. The lake is tempting for a child to want to explore. I try to tell myself she came this way. We have been here so many times on picnics or walks, even before our marriage.

"There she is! By the water," Joe shouted.

I turn my head that direction and I see her. Joe and I ride in her direction and see her squatted down and her little flowered dress spread out around her. We stop the horses and my heart is pounding as I run towards her. There she sits calmly playing next to the lake. I kneel down next to her and see that she had made a pile of leaves and stones. I reach out to pick her up when I see a snake only a couple feet away. I make eye contact with Joe and he sees what I see.

The gunshot makes me jump. Joe has just drawn his colt and killed the snake. It flies in the air and lands dead on the ground.

"Peggy, are you alright?" I pick her up and hold her close to me. I nod my thanks to Joe.

"I was scared for you Peggy. Did you see the snake?"

"Yes Adam, but it stayed right there."

"What are you saying?"

"The snake crawled up a few minutes ago and just stayed there."

"Are you telling me you saw the snake and…..oh Peggy."

"Yes but it didn't bother me."

"All I can say is you are a very lucky little girl. This could have been a disaster. That was a rattler. It could have bitten you?"

I realize that I am yelling and all the fear and anger is directed at her.

"Peggy, Joe and I have been searching for you for quite some time. Then we find you by the lake and a rattler right next to you. God knows what could have happened if Joe hadn't been quick enough to kill it before it got you. People die from snake bites. This isn't a game."

"I didn't mean it. I'm sorry…"

"Well, young lady. Sorry isn't good enough. I have never spanked you but this is the second time you have run off. You left the yard without permission. You came up to the lake all by yourself. It wasn't a smart thing to do and very dangerous. And I can't even talk about the snake. " I let out a deep breath and try to relieve myself of some of my anger and frustration I feel right now. " Come on. We need to head back. Your mama and grandfather are very worried about you."

I set her in front of me on Sport and we head back to the house. No words are spoken between the three of us but I notice Joe glancing at Peggy from time to time. I wonder what is going through his mind. Joe knows what it's like to be threatened with a spanking. I am proud of myself so far for not punishing Peggy while I am still so angry. That was always a rule of my father's. But for Peggy, the waiting may be worse than the punishment.

When we reach the yard, I dismount and pull Peggy down. Joe takes the reigns and leads both horses to the barn. I take hold of Peggy's hand and we head toward the house. I open the door... Ben, Hoss and Laura get up at the same time.

- Here is the young lady...

-Peggy.»

Laura rushes on her daughter and hugs her...

- WHERE WERE YOU, ?

Peggy does not answer... She lets her mother kiss her but does not loosen lips.

I go up, put down my hand on Peggy's shoulder and make it turn round.

- You say to your mom where you were, or it is me who says to her...

Peggy barely dares to look at me; she twists her hands and bites her lower lip but does not open the mouth.

- Well, I am going to tell her. We found him by the lake.

- Of the edge of the lake, is that true?

- Yes, and it is not everything. She was looking at a ratler.

- Oh ; Peggy, but what is the meaning of that ?

Laura applies three firm slaps on Peggys buttocks, then she points the room out in which she had stretched out.

- Go in the room,

-Peggy, you and I will talk about it later. I said to her.

Peggy disappears without asking more.

It has been a week since Peggy caused us this fear... We have talked to her for a long time, once returned home... She didn't have recieved a spanking from me; I thought that it was not necessary since his mom has reacted very well, according to me... However, I deprived her of her pony during two days... It made her a strong impression... She had looked at me and had asked me why I was punishing her. After all, she said to me, she had already got one spanking... And she did not understand why she had to be deprived there of walk with her pony. I explained her that I really wanted to make her to understand that she had badly acted.. And that when children act suchlike, they must face up consequences. And I have ended by reminding her that three slaps on buttocks and two days without pony, it was not much in comparison with what would have arrived at her if she had been bitten by the ratler.. .. It was better for her to have a sore buttocks, it proves that she is alive... Because the bite of the snake could have killed her. She knows what « to die » means.. She lived it nearly, because her father has died. At the end of my lecture I added this; I wanted to make her to understand how much she counts for me... And that I tremendously love her, that's why I had to do with her, what father do with children... And it seems to me that a daddy has to punish his child... A daddy who loves his children, exercises over them a firm and benevolent authority... Further to it; besides, she started to call me daddy Adam... I was very touched because I have never wanted to impose on it whatever it is;.. And if it comes from her, it is just perfect. I 'm ready to be for her « daddy Adam », her daddy of substitution... Because I know that I will never replace her father... I know what it means having lost a father or a mother and beeing raised by someone else.. I remember; it has been hard sometimes with Inger; the second wife of pa... And curiously, I accepted it only after having tested her... She had punished me, for having disobeyed to her; I confess that I do not remember any more about it.. I think that I had replyed with anger or something like that... And I know one thing, pa gave me a good slap. And Inger had maintained the punishment...She had showed me how much she loved me. Love means that everybody takes care about what you do or say... And I have understood it very well...


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Some Lessons Have to Be Taught

Something has happened in town, and I know someone needs a lesson. It's Philip Bert. Last Thursday, I had to go to Virginia City to have a meeting with my father and the other men on the city council. We had to talk about the school. This Philip Bert is such an idiot. He had come to the school on the day before, because his son had been sent home because of his bad behavior. Bert made a scene, and Miss Jenkins decided to leave the school. Pa and I were furious. We tried hard to make her change her mind, but without success. She said she'd been very shocked, and she needed rest. Roy was no help to us, because he said Philip Bert wasn't violent towards her. Of course he didn't raise his hand to her, but words are sometimes worse than blows, and what Bert did was unacceptable.

The result of meeting was this: Miss Jenkins has on leave for one month; and guess who is going to teach? Me.

I'm so restless in bed. I turn to my right side and then my left. I've had enough, and I finally get up.

"What's wrong, Adam?"

"I can't sleep. I'm going to get a glass of milk."

"I think the teacher is nervous. Am I right?"

"I'm not nervous, but I can't stop thinking, and my head hurts."

"Maybe I can help."

"Pffff! I don't even know where to start. I don't know how I'm going to keep myself under control if Kevin Bert makes a circus out of my class. Or if I have to deal with his father coming in and making another scene."

"Do you think he'll come back? I mean Kevin?"

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be back, but I doubt that he'll act any different."

"Yes, but I'm sure you'll be able to handle him."

"That's what worries me. I'm afraid I won't be able to control myself if he gets out of hand again. And then there's Peggy. She'll also be in the classroom, and that's not going to be easy."

"Don't worry about Peggy, Adam. I'll speak to her in private, and I'll step in if there's a problem. You need to treat her like anyone else in your classroom. I would ask that you let me know with a note like Miss Jenkins always did, and I'll handle her."

"Well, I hope it doesn't come to that. I'm sure all the kids will test me, being new and all, a substitute teacher, and I'm sure Peggy will too. I guess that's what makes me nervous. I'll have to set down the rules tomorrow so they know who is boss. Then I…"

"Ouch!"

"What's the matter, Laura?"

"Baby Cartwright just tested his reflexes on me and gave me a healthy kick," she laughed.

"Is it possible that you're carrying a young stallion in there?" I lay my hand on her rounded belly. I lean in closer and speak with a firm voice. "Is that any kind of a way to say hello to your ma and pa?" My hand lingers on my wife's belly. "Am I to understand that the baby is awake?"

"I would say yes, Adam. I feel him moving more and more, especially in the evening when I lie down on the bed and stay quiet."

"I would like it if he went back to sleep," I smile. That's easy to do!

Peggy and I are ready to leave for my first day at school. Peggy is seated next to me in the buggy and signals her mother for one last kiss.

"You be a good girl today, darling."

"I will, Mama."

I overheard Laura talking to Peggy this morning, reminding her how to act in class and not to follow the other kids if they feel like clowning around. I have faith in Peggy. I think she will do fine. Thinking about everything I've prepared for this first day, I think I'm ready. I didn't have an opportunity to talk with the teacher, Miss Jenkins, so I brought my guitar and an assortment of books. I'll read them a story first and then test their reading skills.

Pa gave me an old spelling book that either Hoss or I used at some point. I noticed the notes my father had written next to certain words. I remember sitting with Pa in the evenings learning to spell some of these words. I learned hundreds of words like that. I remember pitiable, damnation, charity, and contrition. These words had a magical power for me, and I loved to repeat them.

We pull up in front of the school house and Peggy jumps down, running to meet her friends playing out in the yard, while I tend to the horse and buggy. When I'm finished, I call to Peggy, and we hold hands and walk up the steps of the schoolhouse.

"You know, Daddy Adam, I'm big now. You don't have to hold my hand."

"Yes, you are, so why don't you stay out here with your friends? I'll go in and prepare the classroom."

I sit down behind the desk and find an empty drawer for my gunbelt. I see the list of pupils in front of me. There are twelve in all, divided into three sections. The youngest section, Peggy's age, has four; the middle has five; and then there are three older kids. Kevin Bert, Alison Pettigrew, and Jason Barton are three names I recognize. I know the first few minutes of class are crucial. I pick up the chalk and write the date on the blackboard. Luckily, I'm alone in the room as the chalk squeaks across the board. I'll have to pay more attention to that when the students are in the room so they don't start something.

I finish up by writing our first lesson on the board. I plan to start with some mental arithmetic, then some reading. Then word problems for the oldest kids and writing for the youngest. I store my guitar in the cupboard so I can surprise them later. Maybe it will help me keep control if I should have a bad time. I fill the inkwells on the tables of the older kids. The others work with pencils and chalk. Notebooks are expensive, and we only use them when we have to. I will have the little one write on the chalkboard, and then they can erase and start over. I hear the children playing outside. I take a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves. I am really dreading this first day.

It's is time to ring the bell. One more deep breath, and I head out calmly towards the bell. I pull the rope. Ding, dong, ding…girls and boy come running. Peggy and her friend Barbara are first in line and smile up at me. At least these little girls won't give me any problems. Next are Karl and Jonathan, Barbara's twin brothers, followed by Cassandra, Amber, Luke, Buster, and Joachim. Finally the older kids. I stand aside as they all enter the classroom.

"Good morning, Mr. Cartwright."

I hear my surname pronounced twelve times, including by Peggy, who doesn't change the way she acts. I greet every child by nodding my head. I prefer not to smile at them at this time. We'll see later.

"Everyone take a seat, please. Thank you."

I watch the class closely. The boys remove their hats, and the girls hang theirs on the provided hooks in the back of the classroom. I hear their shoes scrape the clean floor and notice how much quieter the girls seem to be. They hold their books and slates and move to their seats. They seem to look at me the same way I am looking at them. They are cautious and maybe as scared as I am. The youngest hold firmly to their slates, trying not to let them fall and break. I stand close to my desk and face the class. They look at me, seeming somewhat surprised and perhaps intimidated. I take another breath and add some weight to my voice.

"Children, I wish you a good morning. I think all of you know me, so we won't waste time with introductions. I will be teaching you in the absence of Miss Jenkins. We are going to spend a month together, and I hope it will be a pleasant time for all of us. We are here to learn not to goof off in class. I won't tolerate insolence or inactivity. Each of you will have to answer to me for your behavior and face any consequences I feel you deserve. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Mr. Cartwright."

I start to explain to the children what I want them to do when someone interrupts me. All the children turn to face the back of the room. Kevin Bert has just arrived. He has a dictionary and a slate in his hands. All of the children hold their breath as I look up at Kevin. I have a feeling this will be my first test, but I am ready.

I stand up from my chair and set my pencil down. I put my hands on the top of the desk and slowly stand up. I look at Kevin. I am taller than he is, and I somehow hope this will impress him.

"You are late, Kevin. Class started fifteen minutes ago. Do you have an explanation?"

"I lost my way," he replies.

"What?" How can he stand right in front of me and make fun?

"I assure you, Mr. Cartwright. I got lost."

The kid has nerve.

"Now why don't you give me a straight answer?"

The boy doesn't speak, just stands there with a mocking smile, which exasperates me to no end. He's standing there waiting for me to lose control, but I'm determined not to.

"Okay, Kevin, you've said your piece. If you will remove your hat and take your place, I will explain what we are going to do." I don't raise my voice, but I am firm. I count on my determination to make him give in, but he remains standing directly in front of me.

I repeat, "Kevin, take your seat NOW. Otherwise…"

"Otherwise what, Mr. Cartwright? You gonna make me stand in the corner? Go ahead. What are you waiting for? Put me in the corner."

I glance quickly at the rest of the children and see the looks on their faces. They are shocked at what is taking place. I need to get the advantage here, but I won't play his game. Instead of walking towards him, I stroll the outer edge of the classroom. I turn around and face my other students.

"I want you all to stay busy with your assignments while Kevin and I have a little talk."

There is silence in the room and I see eleven head bow over theirs slates and notebooks.

"I'll be waiting for you outside," I say as I look directly at the 'class clown.'"

I've caught him off guard. He didn't expect this. Maybe he's waiting for a thrashing, but there's no way I'm laying a hand on him. "I will talk to you man to man outside, unless you want to sit down and do your work like the other children."

The word 'children' gets to him, and he stands up to his full height as he apparently decides to join me outside. I head out the door and he follows, anxious to know what will happen next. I have the power now, and I'm not going to let him have it. I already find it hard to tolerate his father and his ideas. During the last meeting of the city council, he monopolized the conversation for nearly an hour. He is an extremely prejudiced man, hating Indians, Asians, and any immigrant that's ever set foot on this land. His kind should be put down before such hatred reaches epidemic proportions.

I once heard him say that the only good negro is a negro in chains. He only tolerates his own kind. His sort makes my stomach turn. I'm still shocked when I hear respectable men say such stupid things, and then they have the nerve to attend church on Sunday mornings, and shake everyone's hand, and give their offerings. The worst part is that he's highly respected in Virginia City. He has smoothness of speech that ingratiates him to incorrigible fools like him. He is a dangerous man.

And here I am facing his son, who walks in his father's footsteps. I think about Miss Jenkins and what she must have gone through with these two. I ask myself how I'm going to manage this kid without losing control. This boy, who's the size of my younger brother Joe, has provoked me enough that I want to slam my fist right through that smirk on his face, but I refuse to lose control. I won't raise my hand to him and have his father back here causing a scene.

"Well, now, there's only you and me, and we can talk out here without being overheard. So go ahead, express yourself," I say.

"What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything from you. You're the one who wants to be a loud mouthed liar. You want to test me? I'm right here in front of you, so you can say whatever you want if you have the courage. Or is it that there's no one here to admire you? No one to show off in front of? I see you have nothing to say now. You're nothing but a disrespectful child." His nostrils flare, and his lips are pinched. He looks like a furious bull, ready to charge. Fortunately I don't have on my red shirt, or he might be tempted to take me on, but I see he's about ready to blow.

"What's bothering you?" I demand. "Is it that I'm your teacher? You need to express yourself. This anger has to go somewhere."

Angrily he throws himself on top of me. He starts to pound on my chest with his fists. "I hate you! I hate you!" I understand he needs to vent his anger, but he's really starting to punch and hurt me. I block his arm before the next blow hits me. I twist him around and hold his arm behind his back. I grab his other arm and knee him in the back to make him walk forward. There's a pump with a bucket next to the schoolhouse, and I push him in that direction. I lean him up against the wall and dunk his head in the ice cold water. No need to do it twice; I think he's learned his lesson.

"Here's the deal, Kevin. You have two choices. You can walk back in that classroom and do as you're told, or you can stand out here and have a tantrum like a little kid. I can't wait to tell everyone how I took you down a peg or two. I think people will get a big laugh out of that. Now which is it going to be?" He doesn't answer, but pulls his arm away and heads back into the classroom. Kevin Bert is tamed, at least for this morning. I'll be glad if it lasts all day and my treatment has been effective.

"Class is dismissed."

The children raise their heads from their work, put down their pencils, and get up.

"Those who eat at home, you can go out, calmly please."

"Have a good lunch, Mr. Cartwright."

"Thank you, children. See you later. And be careful on the way home."

"Yes, sir."

Barbara, Karl, Jonathan, Amber, Luke, and Alison go out of the class. They live in the city and can go to eat in their homes. The others wait. They bring lunch buckets, usually with some bread and cold meat, sometimes an apple and a piece of pie or a muffin. And then they drink some water at the pump.

I let them go out, and they all find a place close to the schoolhouse. They eat fast, because they're impatient to play. I decide to let Peggy eat with other children; I'm not going to impose on her. I don't the other children to think she has preferential treatment; I'd rather she stick to her usual habits. That's why I asked Laura to prepare us two separate lunches, so Peggy can eat with her friends.

I want to correct the exercises that the children have done this morning. Their writing exercises are quite perfect, but the older students have had difficulties with long division. I read a few incredible results: 7x15=94, 9x12=128, 15x15=115.

The little ones have understood their mathematics, which is great. Their groupings in dozens are correct. I will have to work a bit with Barbara, who has difficulty writing her numbers. She mixes up 18 and 80. I can understand these quantities don't mean much to her: 80 and 18 are very big numbers for a small girl of barely six years. Her eighteenth birthday is far away in the future.

I swallow my piece of bread, and I crunch an apple quickly while I keep on working. This afternoon, I want to try some games with the children. The little ones will learn to play draughts, beginning by moving pawns, while the olders are going to play chess. I asked Pa to give me his game and I brought mine; two should be enough in the beginning. If I see that it's working well, I will buy some more sets. The school has a little credit to buy some books, and I'll ask the advice of the city council before I take out any money equip the class. Chess is a game of strategy; when the children learn it, they'll have a means of fighting without fists or feet. They'll learn that sometimes we have to lose, which seems to me to be an essential lesson for getting along in life. Chess can show them that it's not possible to win every time, but losing doesn't undermine the value of an individual.

I can't believe it; it can't be time. I've got to sound the bell soon.

I head out the door and get ready to pull on the rope, when my eye is attracted by two people walking towards the school. The oldest of two jeers at me; I signal to him to come on up, and he climbs the narrow staircase which leads to the schoolhouse door. Then, before I comprehend what he intends, he has shoved me against the wall, ready to punch his right fist in my face. The children stare at me, their eyes were filled with dread. No one can believe what is happening. Strangely detached, I'm thinking that our geography lesson is going to be a bit postponed; we'll discuss the Straits of Gibraltar later. At the moment, I must give a lesson in fisticuffs or boxing to this incredible fool. But first I have to free myself. Teaching is a hard job...

He's dared to threaten me in front of the children, but on top of that, he's preventing me from teaching and has attacked me physically. Okay, his fist hasn't come crashing into my face yet, but I think if it does, I could kill him. I'm skilled enough in self-defense, but no—I will not fight him. I can't do that with the children here.

He shouts at me over and over, yelling that it's shameful how I tortured his son, that he is going to alert the sheriff.

"Then why isn't he hanging me?" I retort. "Okay, that's it. This is enough now."

I'm beginning to see red. I push him back and hold his arm behind him. His hat falls to the porch floor.

"Okay now, listen to me, Bert. Here you are in MY class; you came and threatened me in MY workplace instead of waiting until the end of class. My pupils are present, and I'm that this isn't the best thing to show them. Now, I'll ask you to go out, calmly and on your own two feet, before I throw you down the steps down in a less dignified way. One last thing: you can raise your son however you think best, but here, I'm the boss. Yes, I had to punish your son, because he tried to defy me. I only put his head into a bucket of water; I didn't hit him. I wouldn't have done that in front of the children. Now I'll give you three seconds to leave decently, as if nothing has happened, and we won't speak about this again. Or I swear to you that I'll break your arm and plunge your head into the bucket like I did to your son. So what's your decision?"

"Okay, Cartwright, I'm leaving. Kevin, you're coming back with me."

"But Pa..."

"No buts. You're coming back, and that's it."

And Philip Bert turns around and leaves the school. He's mortifed, I can tell. He puts his hat on his head and goes.

"Okay, children, into the classroom now. I don't want to hear a word about what just took place. Understand, everyone?"

"Yes, Mr. Cartwright..."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Trouble in Paradise

It's Saturday morning, and Sport and I are heading to the Ponderosa. I pull up out front, tie my horse to the railing, and head into the house.

"Morning everyone," I say as I walk through the front door.

"Adam, what a pleasant surprise, son."

Pa, Hoss and Joe are still sitting around the table having their breakfast. I toss my hat on the sideboard and remove my gunbelt.

"Coffee, Adam?"

"Yes, please. Thanks, Pa."

"So why the early visit, son? Nobody's sick, I hope. Nothing's happened to…?"

"No, nothing. No need to worry."

"I really don't think you just came to eat breakfast with your brothers and me this early in the morning. Is there something else wrong?"

"I needed a little fresh air this morning."

"A little trouble in paradise, you might say," says Joe, leaning forward towards me and propping his elbows on the table.

"Joseph," Ben reprimands, "Don't you have some chores to do in the barn?"

"Yes, sir." Joe wipes the edge of his mouth with his napkin and stands up to leave. Hoss, not at all happy, figures Pa means him too, and he follows Joe, leaving a heaping pile of pancakes on his plate.

"Do you want to talk about it, Adam?"

"Well…"

"Listen, son, if you rode all the way over here, I assume you want to talk. Am I wrong?"

"No, you're right, of course. I guess I just don't know where to begin. You see, it's been a week since I replaced Miss Jenkins, and…"

"You didn't decide to tell the children those stories of the old borders again, did you?"

I smile, thinking that my first experience as a teacher brought me a lot of problems. "I have Miss Jenkins' lesson plans, and we're doing what she requires—but it's Kevin, Bert's son."

"Have you had trouble with him, son?"

"I sure have, but we can talk about that another time."

"I confess, it's hard for me to be in the same room with Bert," says Pa.

"I agree with you there, Pa. I tried not to take a dislike to his son, but those two are exactly the same. But my problem today is with Laura."

"So what's the problem?"

"I don't really know. She's been in a mood, though, I can tell you that. She rejects me, and I have to say that she's very different now. She wasn't like that before. Last night for instance, she flew into a rage because I didn't look at some catalog she had. She wanted me to look at some scarf or sack or something that I think you can carry the baby in when you go out somewhere. Maybe one of her friends told her about this, I don't know, but I was thinking about something else at the moment and…"

"Oh, I see," Pa says, holding his hand over his mouth as if I can't see the laugh he's hiding.

"What do you mean, 'Oh, I see'?"

Pa walks over and rests his hand on my shoulder.

"You see, son, you must know when your mother was waiting for you to be born, she was joyful."

"Ah, so you see, that does exist. Not all women are in a bad mood the whole time they're pregnant."

"Wait, son, I'm not finished. She didn't want to come to bed with me. She had always something to do: knitting or embroidery."

"Well, at least Laura only knits during the day when I'm away at school."

"I think the smart thing would be to head back home and apologize to her."

"No! I won't. I didn't do anything wrong to be sorry for. Okay, maybe I was distracted thinking about Kevin and his father but…"

"Stop thinking about school and pay attention to your wife. The baby will arrive soon. Now go."

"You mean I can't even stay for breakfast?"

"You mean you left home without eating anything?"

"Well, yes…"

I sit down and pick up a piece of bread and the honey jar. I drizzle the honey over the bread and watch it slowly spreading.

"NO, NO, HELP! ADAM, I'M DROWNING! HELP, HELP ME! ADAAAAAAAAM!"

"OUCH! What's happening? Hey, what's the meaning of this?"

Someone has just tried to knock me out? I fell on my head? Where am I, what's happening? I move my hand forward carefully, trying to touch something. I open one eye and then the other one. It's still night...what's that, a shroud? No, it's a sheet...my sheet...the white sheet of MY bed. Ah, here's my first answer, my first certitude; I am in my bed. And Laura? Yes, she has shouted. Now I'm sure; I heard her voice. She was calling for help...

"Darling, what's the matter?"

Apparently, there is nothing, because my Laura is sleeping. Yes, she's sleeping like a newborn. She has stopped fidgeting and has turned over, breathing calmly. No more shouting, no more terrified gestures. Maybe I dreamed the whole scene? I must be overtired. But I heard her shouting; I know that. I can't believe this! She howls right in the middle of the night, and then madam goes back to sleep as nothing has happened. And who is awakened? Me. And who is going to lie awake thinking now? Me. And who has just two hours to go back to sleep? Me.

I sit on the edge of the bed and put my head between my hands, knowing what will happen. I've always been a light sleeper, and her I am at 2:00 a.m., anticipating tossing and turning in my bed. I know that I won't be going back to sleep. I'm fed up to here; it's useless to stay in bed when you can't sleep. On top of that, when I see Laura deeply sleeping, this irritates me even more. I know that I shouldn't resent her. Still, she awakened me, she needed me but she didn't even wait for my assistance; she immediately dived back into the arms of Morpheus. And here I am, sitting like an idiot on the edge of the bed..

I slide my right foot into my slipper and try to find other one. I really don't want to light the lamp, which is on the night table near me. I'm afraid I'll cause a ruckus by splitting the match or even breaking the glass. I search under the bed.

I can't even count sheep; we have none on the ranch, and I can't count pieces of fluff under the bed. The floor is spotless; even if she's tired by her pregnancy, Laura makes it a point of honor to keep our home in the same state of cleanliness I've always known.

Ah, I've just found my slipper. I put it on and go out of the room. The moon lights the staircase, and I can go down easily. I take refuge in the kitchen. I pick up a glass and pump twice. The water runs gradually and fills my glass. I drink slowly and close my eyes. I'm feeling better; I just needed a little water to calm down.

Opening the door, I go out onto the steps. The night is cool but not cold. I sit down on the porch floor, leaning against the door frame. Closing my eyes, I put my elbows on my knees and my head in my arms. I think back to yesterday, to my father's words. Of course, I did what he told me. I came back home and made my apologies to Laura, and we looked at her catalog together. What I would have liked to have told Laura was this: the scarf did not interest me.

I'm afraid. I have this fear that I'm not tall enough, figuratively speaking, to be a father. That's the truth: when you have a father like mine, who twice proved capable of taking care of a newborn baby and then of bringing up three boys practically alone, this makes you think. And I feel a weight on my shoulders, and I confess that I don't feel at the top of my form. And now the old fear re-emerges, this anxiety that I feel for Laura: fear of losing her, fear that something terrible will happen during the birth of the baby. And once again, I do what I do when I feel lost: I lift my eyes to the sky, and I pray.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Lessons Learned

"Well, children, here is what you must learn. A pearl. Plural: some pearls. A tear. Some tears. But don't forget: a child, but three CHILDREN. Understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Cartwright."

"Promise me to pay attention to your math problems and your writing assignments."

"Yes, Mr. Cartwright." One girl pipes up: "We'll put an 's' everywhere, in every word."

"What? What do you mean?" I adopt a mock outrage. "How dare you be witty in this class?" I'm delighted with this child's comment, which proves she has a smart mind. I have to admit, I like excellence, and by the way, I'm not offended by this answer. On the contrary, I appreciate such displays of humor.

"Okay, I have to say that you all did a very good job this morning. It's raining cats and dogs, so I suggest you stay in class during the break. I'll give you a small musical concert."

"Yes! Yes!"

A "no" would have surprised me; I know the positive effects of music. It's nice to share a pleasant time with people, strumming on a guitar or singing. I do it often, sitting down outside in front of our home, playing one or two songs on my good old wooden guitar. Laura and Peggy sing with me, and I really like listening to their voices...very nice voices.

"Something very lively to begin. You sing with me..."

Choose your partner,

Skip to my Lou.

Choose your partner,

Skip to my Lou.

Choose your partner,

Skip to my Lou.

Skip to my Lou, my darlin'.

Lou, Lou, skip to my Lou,

Lou, Lou, skip to my Lou,

Lou, Lou, skip to my Lou,

Skip to my Lou, my darlin'.

I'll find another one

Prettier than you.

I'll find another one

Prettier than you.

I'll find another one

Prettier than you.

Skip to my Lou, my darlin'.

A little red wagon,

Painted blue.

A little red wagon,

Painted blue.

A little red wagon,

Painted blue.

Skip to my Lou, my darlin'.

Lou, Lou, skip to my Lou,

Lou, Lou, skip to my Lou,

Lou, Lou, skip to my Lou,

Skip to my Lou, my darlin'.

The children sing all the refrains with me, clapping their hands in rhythm. They have e a good ear, even if some of the boys are a bit off key. The youngest are in their element; their entire bodies participate, and I hear their boots knocking on the floor. I will not call it noise, though. I finish the last chord and hold my hand against the strings to make them stop vibrating. We applaud ourselves for a long time.

"Well, now, another song at a slower tempo. You are going to hear the contrast between "Skip to my Lou" and the one I'm going to play, which is called "Endless Roads."

Every road I see

Leads away from me.

There's not a single one

That leads me home.

The road keeps saying, friend

Come see what's 'round the bend.

So is it any wonder

That I roam?

All the places that I've been

Keep callin' me back again

And down the pines, I hear the cold wind blow.

My heart keeps telling me,

Footloose and fancy free,

And the road goes by and calls me as it goes.

Well, maybe there's a someone

Waiting there with a smile,

And maybe that's a someplace

You can stop and rest awhile.

'Cause maybe you weren't meant to be

Just a rolling stone,

And maybe there's a road to travel on,

That leads you back to home.

Ah, but I'll keep a-travelin' on,

Lookin' at the dawn,

Till I can lay this lonesome body down.

And when that time has come,

I never more will roam,

And every road I see

Will lead me home.

At this moment, a thousand thoughts cross my mind. I think back to Howard; this was his song. It will soon be two years since…oh, what's the point of mentioning that? Oh, dear Lord, he was such a brilliant guy. Tormented, certainly; but with sensitivity just below the surface. I know he showed me his deepest feelings. Whenever he sang, the world stopped turning, and nature completely held its breath. "Endless Roads." How did I not see the premonition in what he sang? "Well, maybe there's a someone waiting there with a smile." Oh, what a dreamer, just a fool who sacrificed his life and his talent. He should have kept singing, but who can change that? How would it have been possible for him to live on melodies and harmonies when his own existence was disharmony incarnate, once he started on the wrong path and became an outlaw? He lived completely apart from the reality of the law.

"Well, maybe there's a someone waiting there with a smile. Perhaps somewhere, somebody really did wait for him with a smile on the corner of her lips. Hilda could have been this beauty with a smile. But no, instead of going to her, he nearly carried her away in his current, and he surely broke her heart. Did he suffer for it? I don't know; he spoke only in songs. Surely that was better. His speeches always ended up depressing me, while his songs always filled my heart with hope. He really transmitted something to me, something strong and deep that made me a new man. He was the first one to show me how to open my heart by making six strings on a wooden piece vibrate. Everyone knows I'm reserved and uneasy with my own feelings. There have been too many silences, too much pain, too many instances when it was necessary to be strong, to fight for my life. Too many times not to think, not to speak, not to cry. Be strong, be big, and stand tall. Stand. Stand. Hold on. Hold on, never give up.

Oh, I realize where I am. Fortunately, the children haven't seen my confusion; they're just fascinated by the melody and the words. The silence which follows is special and unusual. When I get up to put away my guitar, I see him standing at the end of the classroom, leaning awkwardly against the door. Kevin Bert is there, a bit embarrassed, surprisingly. I was unaware of his presence; I didn't hear him come in. I turn my look on him, making it a friendly look.

"Good morning, Kevin."

"Good morning, Mr. Cartwright. Excuse me, I wanted to listen. My f-father doesn't know I'm here…"

"Oh, I see."

"He doesn't want me to come back. But I'd like to come back to class, if you'll let me."

"You have your place here, Kevin, you know that. Although I'm not so sure a man needs a place in a school."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that the way you're acting shows me you're a man now, no longer a kid. And I congratulate you for your behavior."

"You really want to keep me, Mr. Cartwright? I understand if you don't. I acted really badly. I'm an idiot."

"I agree with you to a point. You acted badly. But I don't think you're an idiot. It takes a kind of courage to stand up to an adult. I know that, and you showed me that kind of courage, but it takes even more courage to admit your mistakes in front of others. Not only have you just acted like a man, Kevin, but on top of that, you've just given your first lesson as a professor. I think every one of your friends has been very impressed by what you just said, much more than by all the lessons in morality that I could teach. Am I right, children?"

"Yes, Mr. Cartwright."

I go to him and offer him my hand. "Welcome back, Kevin. For my part, everything is forgotten. You can come back."

We return to our work. I just hope I'll have no new visit from the father, Bert. I'll see what happens by lunchtime. If Bert shows up here, I'll head straight for the sheriff before something bad occurs. I know I can beat they guy, but I'm in no mood for anything like that. He's such a pain in the neck. How can anyone be so ignorant?

Okay, calm down, Adam Cartwright; you have other things to do. "Well, we'll start with a poem," I say. "I want the youngest children to read. Who would like to begin?" They raise their hands, and I have to pick one. I pick Peggy, and the other three are disappointed.

Hush, little baby, don't say a word,

Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird.

If that mocking bird won't sing,

Daddy's gonna buy you a diamond ring.

And if that diamond ring turns to brass,

Daddy's gonna buy you a looking glass.

And if that looking glass gets broke,

Daddy's gonna buy you a billy goat.

And if that billy goat won't pull,

Daddy's gonna buy you a cart and bull.

And if that cart and bull turn over,

Daddy's gonna buy you a dog named Rover.

And if that dog named Rover won't bark,

Daddy's gonna buy you a horse and cart.

And if that horse and cart fall down,

You'll still be the sweetest little baby in town.

Peggy begins reciting. I've picked up an essay to read, but I stop and listen to her. She has such a little voice, but she's speaking with so much conviction. The way she pronounces "daddy" is very touching. She makes me shiver with her tuneful little voice. My head is full of pictures, and I'm sure I'm smiling blissfully, because I feel the corner of my lips turn up. I quickly pull myself together. I'm full of emotion this morning, I'd certainly be embarrassed if a tear should appear in the corner of my eye. I don't think the children would understand. I know Peggy likes this poem; the words apparently touch her tremendously. She doesn't speak to us about it, but I know she misses her daddy so much. She's happy, joyful, and a good student, but sometimes there's a veil of sadness in her serious eyes. I know I'll never be able to fill that space in her heart. The one who is gone is always missed. And when she says "daddy," I know she's thinking of her real daddy.

Peggy was born a Dayton, and it's only marriage that makes her a Cartwright. I know her blood is that of a Dayton, and her eyes are those of a Dayton. It doesn't matter that Frank Dayton wasn't much of a husband to Laura; he loved her enough to make this child, and that's what's important. Now I have to repair my wife's wounded heart and give her self-confidence, love, and the tenderness she's entitled to.

For Peggy, things are different. She was loved very much in her early years, so she has a solid foundation. For Peggy now, I'm a shoulder, a guide. With landmarks, she can continue to grow. It was her father who showed her the stirrup, but I'm the one who now holds the reins and guides her. She will follow in my footsteps. I'm the one to give her these landmarks.

"Landmarks": what a curious word. I don't know how to raise a girl. What rules am I going to give her? Which rules must I give her? I know nothing about this. I know she wants to do things by herself, and I want to be there to help, to hold her hand so she doesn't fall. But I must stand back and let her make her own choices. Will I be there for her when she gets hurt or suffers?

I hope the baby will be a boy, since I think I'll have less trouble raising a boy. I practically raised my two brothers, with Pa's help, of course. If I have a son, I'll be able to answer his questions and reassure him. Maybe he will have the same fear as Joe. I have to laugh, remembering that Joe once thought he was about to lost an extremely important part of his anatomy. He'd overheard Pa saying to Marie, "I'll have to cut it, because it's grown too tall." Poor Joe! Of course, Pa was actually talking about a tree!

When Peggy finishes reading, I look at her tenderly. He face is framed by two long braids and well-cut bangs, which hide a determined forehead. She's a small girl, but full of mystery and charm, and I don't know if I'll always have the words to help her. But Laura will be there to help…unless…NO…it begins again. This terrible idea is crossing my mind every day, and it has to stop. I have to quit thinking such thoughts. Laura is going to live and watch her daughter grow; she'll be here to explain everything a girl must know.

Forty-five minutes later, I say, "Class is dismissed. Children, you can all go to lunch now, calmly."

The same ritual. Those who go home for lunch leave first, and then those who stay here at school. They go out calmly, one after another, waiting their turn. I don't have to remind them what to do, and I appreciate that. They are obedient and good children, and that makes me happy. Even Kevin is behaving himself. It seems like the trip to the water pump worked for him. The classroom empties, and I hear the children outside enjoying their lunch break. I stand up and stretch out the kinks in my neck, when I hear Peggy shouting. She comes running into the school, "Daddy Adam! Come quickly." She has forgotten the "Mr. Cartwright," so I know that something serious has happened.

"You have such a serious face, Mr. Cartwright," Laura remarks, coming into our bedroom.

"I'm reading."

"Oh? And what are you reading?"

"Romeo and Juliet."

"I always find you with a book. I've never known anyone who liked books so much. Frank never read, and he always made fun of me when I opened one."

"Did he try to keep you from reading?"

"I don't know." Her face is closed.

"Listen to this." I motion for her to sit down next to me. She snuggles up against me and puts her head on my shoulder. She pulls her legs up and sits on them, resting her hand on her rounded belly. "You're okay like that?"

"Yes, Adam, I am."

"Then listen: Juliet says, 'How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here.' Romeo says, 'With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls; for stony limits cannot hold love out; and what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.' Juliet answers, 'If they do see thee, they will murder thee.'

"How did he manage to write so beautifully?" she asks.

"I think unhappy stories inspire the best stories. The author of this drama wrote a tragedy. He knew his story would end in a bloodbath, so every loving instant had to be passionately expressed."

"You know, Adam, I like it when you read. You read so well…I can live the scene. I have the feeling that it was me at the top of the balcony, who sighs and waits for love."

"I want to be your Romeo, my darling. And climb the balcony and steal your heart."

"Oh, Adam," she sighs.

I close the book slowly and set it down by my feet. Slowly, very slowly, I take Laura's face and cover her lips with mine. I give her a long kiss, a burning kiss, a kiss I wish would never end.

"My darling, I love you so much. I am so happy."

"Shh Adam. Don't say that."

"But why?"

"I don't know, but I don't want to think about it. You said yourself that Shakespeare could write such splendid things because he already knew his story would have a tragic ending. Whenever you express you happiness so openly, it's because in your heart you know that something threatens it."

"No, I said that about Shakespeare to answer your question. Literature if full of examples of this. True life? No, I don't believe it's so."

"Has your father ever said anything like that to you?"

"My father often says that happiness is fragile, and so it's necessary to savor it every day, but he has never said to me that it was necessary to suppress happiness. When I say that I'm happy, it's a way to show you that I savor what I have with you now, and that I don't ask for anything else. I don't believe these words can affect our destiny."

"Adam, I love you too. I'm happy as I've ever been, except perhaps in the first years of my marriage."

This is the first time Laura has told me of any happiness in her marriage to Frank Dayton. But then she adds, "Adam, you're so different from Frank. I thought I knew what love meant, but I know now what true love is. I'm happy. Frank didn't love me. He didn't give me love, he received love from me. He took what I longed to give. He did not give back what I gave to him. He was selfish and rough. I felt such pain, Adam."

"Shh, don't talk about it if it hurts you."

"Why, Adam? It hurt me more than I can even say, but in spite of that, I owe him respect."

"Respect? Why?"

"Adam, he's dead. We have to show respect for the dead."

"Yes, I agree with you. But before he died, he was a man. A man who didn't respect you. Did he have regrets?"

"No."

"So should we dismiss this because he died? The only respect you must have for him is that he was the father of your daughter. But as a husband, he doesn't deserve your respect."

"Adam, I don't know if I have the right."

"Right? You have every right to be angry with him."

"It's strange that you say that, Adam Cartwright."

"Why?"

"You dare to say that we have the right to be angry with somebody who has died?"

"Yes, I dare to say it because I have heard it from my father."

"Your father?"

"Yes. I've never told you, but he and I spoke a lot after Inger's death, and more after Marie's. He talked to me about the short time, seconds maybe, that he was angry with Marie."

"He was angry with her? Why?"

"He was angry because she fell off that damn horse. He felt abandoned. And here's what he said to my little brother. Everybody feels abandoned at first. Didn't you feel abandoned by Frank?"

"To be truthful, no. On the contrary. I was angry because he left Peggy, and he left me alone to raise her. But my feelings for him had died a long time ago, because of the night he took my by force."

"And that was…"

"No, that wasn't the night Peggy was conceived. That was the only time he proved to be tender."

"Well, at least you'll always know that your daughter was conceived in love."

"Yes, as our baby sleeps…"

"Yes, our two children are children of love, and I love you so much."

"Tonight you're very emotional, Adam Cartwright."

"It must be the magic of Romeo and Juliet. 'I take thee at thy word: call me but love, and I'll be new baptized; henceforth I never will be Romeo.'"

There's a knock at the door.

"Come in, Peggy."

"I'm finished with my homework, Mommy."

"Very well, darling. Did the schoolteacher give you a lot?"

"No, but he said we had to finish our writing, and I finished mine in class. We did have to learn a new poem, though."

"What did you teach them, Adam? Don't tell me you read Shakespeare to the children."

"Just a minute, Mrs. Cartwright. I don't only have Shakespeare in my head. We've been singing 'Skip to my Lou,' and I told them to review the words."

"Daddy Adam, do you think that Barbara is going to come back tomorrow?"

"I don't know. I think so."

"What's the problem with her?" Laura asks. "Is she sick?"

"I forgot to tell you, she fell outside. I'm not certain what happened. but Peggy came in shouting and looking for me."

"I was really scared, Mommy. Suddenly I just shouted 'Daddy Adam.' I forgot to say 'Mr. Cartwright.'"

"Don't worry about that, darling," I tell her, hugging her and giving her a big kiss. "I I'm not mad at you for that, Peggy."

"How is she, then?" Laura asks.

"When I heard Peggy shouting, I ran outside. Barbara was sitting down, because she couldn't stand up."

Peggy tried to interrupt, but I kept talking. "I thought it was her ankle. I picked her up and carried her to the doctor. She couldn't put weight on her foot. I saw Paul later, and he said he wrapped it up, but it wasn't broken."

"Daddy Adam, you are so strong. Barbara is almost as big as you are."

Laura adds, "And she's fourteen, almost a young lady. But yes, your Daddy Adam is very strong."

I smile. "And you know, I can even carry your Ma." No sooner said than done! I demonstrate. I pick up Laura and deposit her on her feet. "I am Hercules, God of Ancient Greece, son of Zeus and Hera, and I am most powerful!"

Peggy looks at us with huge eyes, and then bursts out laughing. "Me too, Daddy Adam, make me twirl."

"Your wish is my command, princess." I pick Peggy up and twirl her in the air.

"Careful, Adam," cries Laura. "Maybe it' not be so smart to turn her upside down right before dinner."

"You're right."

Laura takes Peggy's hand. "Help me pick vegetables, okay?"

"Sure, Mommy."

"Do you need my help?" I ask.

"No, not for the vegetables, but we do need wood if you feel like cutting it. Does Adam love me enough to take on that task?"

"'Doubt that stars are of fire, doubt that the sun turns, doubt that the truth is the truth, but never doubt my love.' That's my answer."

"Mommy, what did Daddy Adam say?"

"Shakespeare."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Twenty Questions

"Good morning, children."

"Good morning, Mr. Cartwright."

"Good morning, Alison. I didn't think, you would come to school this morning. You should have stayed at home."

"Oh, but I'm fine, Mr. Cartwright. My ankle doesn't hurt much anymore. I just can't wear my boots, so my mom said that I had to put on my shoes."

"Wise advice. Your ankle needs time to recover. No running today, Alison."

"No, I promise. Mr. Cartwright. I'll sit with my book at recess."

"Very well. Children, please sit down. We have a lot to do today."

"Mr. Cartwright?"

"Yes, Jonathan."

"Are we going to sing today?"

"Perhaps. It will depend on your studiousness and on my mood."

"Oh, but you're always in a good mood."

"Karl, I don't see you raising your hand."

"Sorry, Mr. Cartwright."

"It's all right. But you have to pay more attention."

"Yes, Mr. Cartwright."

"Well, then, today I've come up with an activity a bit different from what we've done until now. Somebody is going to come to visit our class."

I read astonishment in the eyes of the children; they like anything out of the ordinary. I see that my announcement has had a good effect, and I continue. "You have to prepare for this visit. I'll give you half an hour to think about the questions you'd like to ask our guest. Yes, Kevin?"

"Are you going to tell us who this guest is, Mr. Cartwright?"

"Of course. But before I do, I'd like to give you some instructions. I hope you'll behave correctly. Be nice and patient, and don't forget to raise your hand to speak. Right, Karl."

"Yes, Mr. Cartwright."

"Well, then, let's see. I'm going to try to make you guess the identity of the person. Yes, Peggy?"

"What's identity?"

"Identity? Can anybody explain? Alison?"

"The identity of a person is his first name and last name. It's what allows us to recognize a person."

"Very good. Thank you, Alison. Here is how we're going to go about things: you'll take turns asking me a question, and I'll answer you with yes or no. We'll begin with the smallest: Peggy, Karl, Jonathan, and Barbara. Who wants to ask me a question? Karl, yes?"

"Do I know him?"

"Yes. Another question. Barbara, perhaps?"

"Is it a lady?"

"No. So you can deduce that it is a man. Peggy?"

"Is he a salesman?"

"No. Jonathan?"

"Is it the doctor?"

"No. Cassandra?"

"Is it the telegrapher?"

"No. Luke?"

"Does he work in the city?"

"Yes. Buster?"

"Is it the Reverend?"

"No. Now it's your turn, Amber and Joachim; you didn't ask anything yet."

"Is it the blacksmith?"

"Blacksmith, Amber? No, it is not. Joachim?"

"Does he work in an office?"

"Yes. Now the oldest; you're on your way, I think. Alison?"

"Is it the sheriff?"

"YES! That's it! Sheriff Roy Coffee will come to the school."

They're all dumbfounded. Roy Coffee is a person they know, of course, but someone they don't have an opportunity to discuss things with. A sheriff always impresses children, given that he carries a weapon and stops robbers. And then some mothers use him as a supreme threat: if you don't obey, I'll get the sheriff. Very efficient.

"So you have almost twenty-five minutes to think about the questions you're going to ask him."

The oldest lean over their slates while the youngest search their minds. I see eyes gazing up at the ceiling, along with creased foreheads. It's difficult to imagine what they're going to think of to say, at an age when they express themselves rather spontaneously. I think of Karl, who opens his mouth so often. But he might say nothing in front of Roy. He could just look at him and have nothing to say. But we'll see.

I glance from time to time at my watch; it is almost 9:30. He won't be much longer. At last, someone knocks. The children jump, put down their chalk, and sit up straight on their benches. They undoubtedly want to make a good impression. They exchange looks, mingling excitement and apprehension. I head for the back of the class and open the door.

"Good morning, Roy. Come in."

"Good morning, Adam. Good morning, children."

"Good morning, Mr. Sheriff."

I invite Roy to sit up at my desk while I stand at the back of the room. I sit down on one of the unoccupied benches.

"Well, children, I'm very happy to be with you. I hope that you're fine."

"Yes, Mr. Sheriff."

"All right, your teacher asked me to come visit your class. I accepted, and I hope we're going to have a nice time together. How are we going to go about things, Mr. Cartwright?"

"The children have prepared questions."

"Ah, good. So you're going to lead an investigation, in a way."

"Yes."

The word "investigation" makes them sit up straight, eyes wide.

"Then let's begin. Yes, you. You're Jonathan, right?"

"Yes, sir. I'd like to know what to call you."

"That's a very good question, my boy. You see, my first name is Roy, and my surname is Coffee. But people also call me by my profession. So you can call me Mr. Coffee or Mr. Sheriff."

"Agreed, Mr. Sheriff. Thank you."

"Yes, miss. You're Alison, is that right?"

"Yes, Mr. Coffee. Do you put many people in jail?"

"Ah, I don't know what you mean by 'many.' Sometimes the cells can stay empty for weeks, and sometimes they're full. Fortunately there are more honest citizens than robbers, and my job is usually rather quiet. Somebody else…yes, Kevin?"

"At what age can you lock someone up in jail?"

"Very interesting question, Kevin. I think I could lock up a boy of your age if he committed a crime: a theft, for example." Looking at the rest of the children, he continues, "You must understand that my job consists of keeping the law. Every person must respect rules, whether he's an adult or a child. What do your parents do when you disobey? Jason?"

"My father punishes me."

"Me, too."

"Me, too."

"Yes, yes. Very well, then, children. Your parents punish you when you don't respect the rules they give you. And why are rules necessary? Yes, Alison?"

"We could get hurt or killed if we disobey."

"Very good, that's absolutely right. Yes, Peggy?"

"I…I was punished when I left to play by the lake."

"All alone?"

"Yes…and on top of that, there was a snake there. It was very close to me. My Daddy Adam told me I could have died."

"Yes, miss. Your parents had every reason to punish you. And since you're a child, it's your parents who take care of you and teach you the difference between right and wrong. But adults also have to respect rules. And when an adult takes what does not belong to him or harms another person, he has to be punished. A grownup doesn't get a spanking, but he's deprived of his freedom. Yes, Jonathan?"

"He's deprived of his freedom? Like when I don't finish my chores, and I can't go out and play?"

"Exactly, Jonathan. Yes, Jason?"

"I asked my father why Kerryan was killed, but he didn't want to answer me. So can you explain it to us?"

Uh oh. I have a feeling Roy's smile hides his nervousness; Jason has just broached a sensitive subject. Roy turns his head toward me. I give him my opinion. "Roy, I think that any question from these children deserves and answer. Maybe we can try to answer it together. We'll keep our explanation simple."

"Yes, Adam, you're right. Children, you were in the church when I came to announce to your parents what had happened. A man had killed two people and was hiding, not very far from Virginia City. As sheriff, my duty is to protect you all, and to prevent robbers from threatening the citizens. Therefore, I made a decision to go looking for this man. Some of your fathers came with me to help. We saw the robber at the edge of a river, and we decided to stop him. But he had no intention of being stopped, and he took out his gun and shot at us. So I shot back, and he died. Yes, Cassandra?"

"But why do you have the right to kill people?"

"I can kill people, that's true; but I only do it if it's necessary to protect the lives of the people who are with me. This robber could have hurt or killed somebody. I did what I had to do; that's what's called self-defense. But I have to be able to prove that the other person drew first. Do you understand, Cassandra?"

"Not everything."

"It's complicated. Adam, do you want to add anything?"

"Yes, Roy."

I return to the front and begin to speak. "Children, I want you to understand one thing well. Your fathers, the sheriff, and I can carry guns. Ideally, we use our weapons to feed our families. We have to go hunting to eat. Some people aren't always guided by good intentions, and they'll use the same weapon to steal money or take lives. When that happens, the sheriff has to step in, as a reminder to those who don't respect the rules. Sometimes, unfortunately, a sheriff is obliged to kill, in order to guarantee the security of the citizens. That's what happened to the robber who had hidden near our city. Jason, did we answer your question?"

"Yes, Mr. Cartwright."

"Jason," says Roy, "you should understand that your father wanted to protect you by not answering, but you have the right to ask questions. School is a place where your questions will find answers. And I'm sure I can say that Mr. Cartwright will always answer your questions."

"Thank you, Roy. Well, children, do you have any other questions?"

"No, Mr. Cartwright."

"I'm going to say one last thing to you, and then I'll let you go out to have a break. I'm speaking to the youngest children now: you've heard many things, some of them very complicated. If you remember only one thing out of all of this, it's that everybody must respect rules, adult or child; and they're punished if they don't respect the rules. Okay?"

"Yes, Mr. Cartwright."

"Well, children, we're going to let Mr. Sheriff go. What do you say to him?"

"Thank you, Mr. Sheriff."

"Thanks to you, children, for your questions, and thank you for being so attentive. Goodbye, and I'll see you soon."

I walk Roy to the back of the room, and in the doorway I shake his hand for a long time. "Thank you, Roy. Thank you for being able to find the words to explain such profound things to them."

"It was nothing. Goodbye, Adam. And congratulations, you're doing well with the children."

"Thank you. I try to do my best."

"And you're doing it very well. Give Laura a big hug from me."

"I won't forget."

I come back in the classroom and announce to the children that they can go out. They're impatient to stretch their legs and play Sheriff and Robbers. It's their favorite game. Alison takes out a book, and I go out with the children. I don't regularly do that, but right now I need to. The subject we just discussed was particularly serious, and perhaps a bit heavy for the younger children. I'm very happy to have been able to present it to them. Children are often around when such things are discussed, and they hear many things they don't understand. I realize that some parents aren't willing to answer their children's question. My role is to give them answers by putting myself on their level.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Big Trouble

On Saturday morning, we're all three lazing in bed. The sheets are warm, and Peggy has slipped between us. This is something I enjoy. I think of nothing; I had a good night. Laura didn't have any nightmares, and I didn't lie awake thinking before falling asleep.

Suddenly I hear someone knock at the door. I listen closely. They knock again, more insistently.

"Who's coming so early?" Laura mumbles.

"I don't know. Please tell me it's Saturday. No class today, right?"

"Yes, it's Saturday."

I get out of bed and jump into my trousers. Slipping on my shirt hastily, I leave the room in my bare feet. Whoever it is, they're still knocking at the door. I walk down the staircase, shouting, "I'm coming!"

Have you ever tried to button your shirt while running down the stairs? No? I have, and I can tell you that it's impossible. Oh, well, I'll just open the door with my shirt undone. Why not? After all, I'm at home. And if it's Hoss or Joe, they'll understand. I hope they don't have bad news to tell me.

"I'm coming," I mutter as I open the door, having turned the key.

"Good morning, Adam. Sorry to wake you so early in the morning, but I need to speak to you."

"Yes, good morning. Come in, Roy. Excuse me for not being dressed; we just got up."

"You can finish dressing. This can wait."

"Want a cup of coffee?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Sit down, Roy. I'll be right back."

I go back up to the bedroom and put on my socks and slippers, telling Laura, "I don't know what Roy wants to tell me. It must be incredibly urgent for him to come this early on a Saturday morning and get us out of bed."

"I'll get up and fix your breakfast."

"No, no, no, Mrs. Cartwright. I'm going to make the coffee, and as soon as I've finished with Roy, I'll bring you your breakfast."

"Yes," Peggy says sleepily, "Mom needs her rest. Otherwise my little brother is going to be much too tired to play with me."

"Well, how do you know this, you?" Laura asks her.

"Well, I guessed. Your belly is very round, just like Barbara's mama."

"Oh, Barbara is going to have a little brother or sister?"

"Yes, and I'll have a little friend, too."

"Ah," Laura says, amused.

"Darling," I say, "I'm going downstairs. I shouldn't make Roy wait too long." I go back down, decently dressed, and join the sheriff in the kitchen. I relight the fire in the stove and fill the coffee pot with water, then sit down with him. "Okay, tell me what brings you here so early."

"Adam, it's a bit complicated. I'm embarrassed to say it. I have a big problem, and it concerns you."

"Oh, really? You're worrying me now. What's happened?"

"Philip Bert."

"Oh, no, Roy. And this Saturday promised to so peaceful."

"Yes, and I'm sorry, but I'm about to spoil it for you."

"No, that can't be true. What's the matter?"

"He's just lodged a complaint against you."

"What? But why?"

"In fact, he's lodged multiple complaints against you. He says you raised your hand to his son, that you threatened him, and that you kept Kevin in school against the boy's will."

"Wait! Stop! Stop right there. What kind of silly accusations are these?"

"Silly or not, Adam, these are his complaints."

"And you judge these complaints to be accurate?"

"I have to take them into account, and I've come to investigate. Adam, I'm sorry."

"Sorry? You're sorry? Not as sorry as I am. I could have put my fist into his face, that old…old billy goat. But instead, I discussed it calmly with him. I tried hard to stay calm. And now this dog lodges a complaint. Come on, Roy, you were in class on Tuesday. Were you under the impression that I was keeping Kevin against his will?"

"No, Adam. But…"

"But what? If you want to know everything, he asked me if he could come back. So yes, I let him come. It would be horrible for a teacher to refuse a pupil who wants to learn. Yes, he told me his father didn't want him to come to class, but I consider Kevin a man in some respects. I consider him a man in some respects. He was man enough to come and apologize to me. This is between him and his father."

"Yes, but you're an authority figure, too. You represent the authority of a father."

"All right, let's talk about the authority of the father."

"This isn't the right time to get into that, Adam."

"Wait a minute, Roy. This guy has tried to ruin my life since I replaced Miss Jenkins. He ruined her life before mine. He's done too much."

"I understand, Adam, but I've got to do my job. If this complaint holds, you won't be back at the school."

"And then?

"The accusation of assault can hurt you. Philip Bert has enough influence to put you in jail."

"What? That's a joke, I hope."

"Oh, no, Adam. Not at all."

"No, that's not true!"

What Roy has told me is a big shock. I slump in my chair, drop my head, purse my lips, and look at the floor. Then I get up suddenly and erupt with fury. "No, Roy! I don't agree with you! Philip Bert is an ignorant man, and I've done nothing worthy of reproach."

"It's like he says. It's his word against yours."

"But this is crazy. It's impossible. The children, you have only to ask the children."

"I'm not so sure about that, Adam. They're under your authority, and they're not very objective."

"Then what do we do?"

"Just calm down and serve me my coffee. We'll find a solution. Besides, I haven't told you everything."

"Oh, how about keeping it until Monday?" I say, trying to smile. "I've already had a big shock."

"Adam, I have to speak with you about something else." Roy looks at me with an expression that says this is nothing good. "Sorry to bring you more bad news, but I have to show you this. Do you recognize it?"

"Yes, that's my scarf. Why? Don't tell me it was found at the scene of the crime."

"Adam, don't joke about this. If what you're telling me is true, you could be in big trouble."

"What? Tell me!"

"This scarf was brought to me by the parents of Alison Pettigrew."

Oh! I feel this is going to be a bad revelation. I sit down again, recover my scarf, and twist it nervously between my hands. "I think she took it from me on Tuesday, during recess. When I came back into the classroom, she was near the blackboard. I asked her what she was doing, and she sputtered an excuse and went to sit down."

"And you didn't realize that you didn't have your scarf anymore?"

"No. To tell the truth, no. So you're saying I have more troubles?"

"Yes, Adam."

"When I think that I accepted this post to help! If I had known it would be so difficult, I never would have said yes. These people are casting doubts on my honor and my respectability!" I wait for Roy to say something else.

"Adam, I understand. I'll try hard to keep a cool head. That's absolutely necessary, so we can avoid a real mess from these two problems. Otherwise, you might have serious troubles."

"Thank you, Roy, I understand. I'm not stupid. I realize that everything is against me now. So what do I start with? Should I give my resignation to the school board? Or do I have to spend the next few hours in jail?"

"Adam, please. At the moment, there's no point in thinking about all this."

"I appreciate you saying 'at the moment.'"

"I think we'll have to have a little chat with Alison. It's certain that it's not Miss Jenkins' scarf that she 'borrowed.' Adam, you're a teacher, and this young lady thinks she's in love with you. You took care of her when she fell, didn't you?"

"Yes, I carried her to the doctor. She couldn't walk."

"Her parents know all this, but they said nothing. So once again, they're not the ones I'm afraid will create problems. It's Bert. All of this can mean trouble for you."

"I have the right to go hit him now. If I have to have problems, I prefer to have them for a good reason."

"Adam, I wouldn't advise it. I'll leave now. We can discuss this again tomorrow. Meet me in my office?"

"Yes, thank you, Roy." I walk him back towards the door.

"Go on, Adam, I'm sure that everything is going to be fine. Go on. Go and make some good coffee for your wife."

"Oh, the coffee! I'm sorry, Roy."

"That's okay, Adam. I'll have a cup next time. See you soon."

I watch him moving away. Closing the door, I sigh deeply and run my hand through my hair nervously. What a blow. How could I have anticipated such news? I really don't know what to make of it, or how I'm going to tell Laura. So much for a quiet pregnancy. This won't help her stay serene. I try to rid my face of consternation as I go back to the kitchen to prepare breakfast and carry it upstairs, as I promised.

Twenty-five minutes, he stayed twenty-five minutes. I tell you, everything can collapse in next to no time. This is a striking example of that.

Oh, I have a feeling that today and tomorrow will be very hard and unpleasant. I have no idea what's going to happen or how I'll untangle it. I can't decide if I should tell Laura about it, and if I do, what I'll say to her. I don't know what to say to anyone. Good grief! I'm lost, totally lost. Sitting down in the chair, I lay my chin on my forearms and don't move. I drop my shoulders, and ouch! I feel pain in the nape of my neck. Sighing once, twice, three times, I bite my lip and raise my eyes towards the ceiling. My hand rakes my hair, and I scratch my head. Again I sight. My head is empty, I'm sapped of energy, and I don't even feel like yelling. Honestly, I can't even say whether or not I'm angry. All I feel is helplessness, numbness, and I know my eyes are glazed. I don't want to think, I just want to forget. Why did Roy talk to me? I don't even want to know about this! But now I do know, and the knowledge is poison in my brain.

A noise makes me jump. Laura says, "Did I scare you, love?"

"Scare me? No. I just didn't hear you come in."

"I tiptoed in, and you were so absorbed in your thoughts." Laura puts her hands on my shoulders and her chin on my head. I take her hand and kiss it. "What did Roy want?" she asks.

"Oh, Roy. Roy does his job, and I do mine, and what do I get? It's just one damn problem after another at the moment. I'm sorry, Laura. I shouldn't talk so rudely, but I have no other words. I'm…I'm…what? What can I say? There are no words to describe what I'm feeling! I'm still shaking my head in amazement! I feel like the roof has just fallen on my head! Roy's words are bouncing around in my mind…he comes in here with his calm attitude, and in twenty short minutes he brings a dark cloud into a beautiful day."

"What? What happened?"

"I wish that man were here, that…oh, if I had him in front of me, I'd…"

"Who are you talking about, Adam?"

"Kevin's father. That fool went to tell Roy what happened at the school. He told him outright that I beat his son. All I did was stick his head in a bucket. That's nothing! Then he told Roy that I threatened him…and as if this weren't enough, Alison's parents too my scarf to Roy."

"Your scarf? How did they get it?"

"Believe me, I asked the same question. Alison filched my scarf and took it home with her." I look at Laura with a dark expression. But blast it all! She's having fun! "This makes you laugh?" I demand.

"Sorry, Adam, but…"

"A fourteen-year-old kid steals my scarf, and this makes you laugh?"

"What should I do? Should I go tear her eyes out? This is a child who took something that didn't belong to her, that's all—and you're making a dramatic scene!"

"Happy to see you taking this attitude." I breathe deeply. "All right, then. Now I know what I'm going to do."

I don't know why this irritates me so much, but I get up abruptly and go out, slamming the door behind me. What am I doing? Okay, I'd better calm down. I'll go back in to Laura later.

Forty-five minutes later, I'm on horseback. I swallowed that cup of coffee in two seconds, and it's just too bad that Laura didn't get her breakfast in bed. Yes, I know I'd planned it and promised it, but we didn't know I was going to be roused from bed by the sheriff. So yes, I'm upset, and I need a change. I'm going to join my father and brothers, to give them a hand with the fences, to work up a good sweat instead of grading papers and handling classroom troubles. Nothing but trouble comes from the desire to think. Yes, I'll grab an axe and work my arms, and I'll stop thinking about that confounded idiot.

Darn it, I'd just begun taming Kevin. He came back to class all by himself; he does his work, and he's left behind that arrogant attitude he had before, that made me want to smack him. He and I were doing fine, but his fool of a father has ruined everything. The world is full of idiots, I tell you. Men who are only good for squeezing the air out of you and wrecking your life, only good for making scandal—and enjoying it. And when you get stuck with them, you have to compromise with them, and you can't just knock them silly. Restraint—that's a lot to ask of an honorable man.

Of course, women can cause trouble, too. We've had our share of troublemaking females on the Ponderosa. My father attracts them, I think. I can't name them all, but there's a nice collection of hysterics, manipulators, schemers, unreliable women, faithless ones, big spenders…I'll stop there. To us Cartwrights, it's very simple: we have an uncanny talent for getting ourselves into hornets' nests. It must be our name: CartwRIGHT. Right; we are RIGHT guys, and we defend ourselves any crooks who come into the Nevada Territory and end up at our place. If they think they can get by us, they must be lacking in common sense. We always get them, even though it takes a lot of energy and effort, and even though we might be hurt.

My brother Joe nearly got an axe in his head one time, wielded by a young lady…well, if I can call her a lady. My brother Hoss can shine when he succeeds in finding a girl, but this always ends in disaster for him. Everywhere, within a stone's throw, there's someone waiting to see the name of Cartwright dragged through the mud. And I? Twice I agreed to teach, and this is the second time I've been beaten for it or had big trouble. The first time, I was actually badly bashed up.

And Pa…oh, I have to tell you about Pa. He knows very well the number of times people have tried to destroy the Ponderosa. The first ones who had a go at it recruited a woman—yes, a woman. A curious weapon, you say? She was responsible for luring one of us into the city as a hostage. And it was Joe who fell into her trap. And then there was another man, the bald one. He gave his wife everything she wanted. And when she got it into her head to have the Ponderosa, no question about it, he made an offer to my father—and then another and another. Can you believe that when Pa refused, this schemer used his influence to block sales to us? His intention was to cut off supplies to our ranch.

Oh, the cleverness of these wicked connivers, the crooked people who never stop complicating our lives. Okay, in the mean time, what can I do? Me? Am I going to break this idiot's face? Should I ask to have a little talk with Alison, and then give her a lecture before going to tell her father? I don't know what to do, but I'm at the Ponderosa now, so I dismount and go toward my brothers.

"Hi, Adam," says Joe. "You know we don't really need you here."

I give Joe and Hoss a very black look. "You want me to leave then?"

"Hey, no! Stay. We do need help with this work," Hoss answers.

"Are you okay, Adam?" asks Joe.

"No, I'm not, and I don't feel like talking about it. I'd just rather work and not have to think or talk, is that clear? And there's no need for you two to keep whispering about me! I can hear you." Oh, yes, I've heard it before. Offensive comments like, "Ho ho, things had to heat up between the two lovebirds." Whenever I come to chop wood, they think it means there's been a dispute between Mr. and Mrs. Cartwright. My brothers would be better off working than talking. They'd better understand, I have no desire to talk—especially if they're going to make schoolboy jokes about my marriage.

I grab the axe out of the wagon and get ready to split the wooden logs. I set the first one up vertically, raise the axe over my head, and bring it down hard on the log. In a flash, I feel a violent tearing in my lower back. Pain stops my breath. I rest the axe on the ground, and suddenly realize I can't move any more. I'm bent over, unable to bend any farther or raise up, either. My eyes fill with tears, and I feel like someone broke me in two. I've never felt pain like this before. I see Hoss and Joe a short distance away, each at the end of a long saw. They're sawing a tree trunk. No one notices me, and I have no voice. I try, but I can't call to them. They're too far away, and I can't catch my breath.

Time goes by slowly when you're waiting for a helping hand that doesn't come. I've been hurt before, but I can't remember ever feeling this powerless. Once, I caught two arrows, one in the leg and the other in the arm—but even then I managed to take a few steps. Now I can't even do that. I can't make any movement at all. My legs start to feel numb, but the rest of the pain spreads so widely that I can't even say where I feel it.

I try to take short steps, but the pain is unbearable. What can I do? Maybe I can just fall over and try to crawl. I need to attract my two brothers' attention, but I don't know how. I have no choice; I must do something, so I bend my knees slowly and fall into the dirt. Resting my hand on the ground, I lie on my stomach and move a few inches. I hide my face in my arms and bite my bottom lip. Taking a deep breath, I blow it out slowly, trying to move as little as possible.

How long can I stand this? Seconds, minutes? It already seems like hours. Barely five minutes have passed, but it seems like an eternity. The pain doesn't diminish. Oh, god, it's so intense! My two brothers are working hard, and it never enters their minds to turn and look at me. They take their time, concentrating on the task at hand. Can't hear the sound of my silence? I know that's a crazy thought, so I try to think of something else. Crack some wood…make some noise. But I know I can't, so there's no sense getting all worked up. I'll just have to be patient. At some point they'll have to get hungry or thirsty, and the food and canteens are here next to me in the wagon. I'll just have to wait.

Twenty minutes later, I hear Joe's voice above me. "Hey, Adam, what are you doing?"

"What does it look, you idiot? I'm picking mushrooms. I've been lying here at least twenty minutes. I tore my back."

"Are you making fun of us, older brother?"

"Sure Joe, I have nothing better to do than tell jokes. Are you deaf? I said I tore my back. I can't move. All I can do is lie here."

Hoss and Joe just stand there looking at me. Bewildered and dazed, I can't stand it anymore. The pain makes me crazy, and I blow up at them. "Have you heard a word I've said to you, you stupid…my back…"

"You're not teasing Adam?" Hoss sounds worried.

"Does it look like I'm teasing? I'm in trouble here. All I did was raise the axe, and I felt a tear in my back."

"Well, you can't stay here, Adam. We have to get you back to the ranch. Let us help you stand up. It's gonna hurt. Joe, help me out here!"

I get ready mentally for the effort. Hoss grabs me under my arms and pulls me up. Thank God, it's over with quickly.

"Argh," I grunt. "Dadburnit."

"Adam, shout if I'm hurting you too much."

"No, I'm okay…oof!"

I'm up, but I'm covered with sweat. I walk a few steps, trying to find the least painful stance. Easy to say. Hoss helps me into the wagon. It will take a while to get to the house, and the trip is going to be painful. Hoss and Joe jump into the wagon, and Hoss takes the reins.

"Okay, Adam, I'm going to go as slow as I can, but I can't promise miracles. Hold on, squeeze something if that helps, and we'll be there soon."

Fortunately, Hoss is here. Hoss, my little brother with a huge heart. Joe is here too, but he's still a kid. I think he's a little afraid of Hoss' reaction now. Joe thought I was joking about my predicament, and I'll make him pay for that. Through the haze of pain, such anger seems to make sense. No one makes fun of Adam Cartwright, oh no…

We're heading back to the ranch, and I realize I was right about one thing: the trip is just hell. I feel so much pain.

"Dang it, Hoss, slow down, please…I'm hurting…" We hit a dip, and then another. Every time the wagon jolts, my rear knocks against the side. "Are you doing this on purpose, Hoss? Are you trying to kill me?"

"I'm trying my best, Adam, but the road…"

And this goes on and on. Damn, but I'm suffering. "Hoss, I'm going to make you eat your hat if you don't stop this infernal bouncing. My whole body aches," I tell him, but nothing changes. "Hoss, I swear I'll pay you back for this as soon as I can stand up again!" But I know he realizes he has nothing to fear from me. Today's not the day I can make him eat his hat.

Adam Cartwright, what a softy. You get so angry, you blow up, you yell, and now you can't move.

"Adam, are you okay back there?"

"I'm just perfect, Hoss. I've never felt so good. I can't remember ever feeling any better than this. My backside is banging against the wagon every time you hit a hole, but apart from that, everything is just wonderful."

"We'll be home soon. Are you all right?"

"No, I'm not all right! Do you understand how bad this hurts? My back's broken in at least ten places, and all you can say to me is we'll be home soon!"

"Adam," Joe reproaches me, "aren't you being a little hard on Hoss? You know he's not hitting those holes on purpose, don't you? The road is full of potholes."

"Okay. Fine. Do you understand how much my back hurts right now, Joe?"

"Yes, I do, Adam, but quit yelling at us. We aren't the ones responsible. We're just trying to get you home in one piece."

"I suppose I should thank you for taking time out of your busy day to take me home. Okay, I apologize for messing up your day. So why don't you just stop the wagon, and I'll get down and walk home."

"Adam, we can't do that," Joe retorts. "You can't walk, so just stop it."

Of course, I know I can't get up and walk away. I can't even move. "Joe, sometimes…"

"Stop it, you two," Hoss snaps. "I'm tired of your stupidity. Adam, I'm doing what I can to make this as painless as possible."

"Okay, Hoss, then speed it up a little."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, even if it means you hit every damn hole in the road. It can't get any worse."

"Whatever you say, older brother."

I feel the wagon gather speed, and I'm shaken in every direction. "Hey, be careful…please…" I gasp, suddenly changing my mind. "I don't want a body cast!"

CRACK!

The axle has just broken…and oh boy, this is rough. Hoss jumps down just before the wagon topples over violently on its side. The crash bounces me into the air, and I slam down again. The wagon is still moving as I crash to the ground. Now I figure I have probably damaged my kidneys.

Damn, what's that? I have broken boards ramming into my thigh. I try to reach down to grab my leg, but…

Hoss has already jumped to the floor of the wagon beside me. As I roll off, I grit my teeth in agony.

"Dadburnit, Adam, the axle is broken, and the wheel is smashed."

"Well, the wheel isn't the only thing that's smashed, younger brother. Good Lord, Hoss, what did you do?"

"Nothin', Adam. You told me to go faster, so I did. Hey Joe, you okay?"

Joe is fine, I think. He rolled off the seat when the axle broke, and he was flung to the side. So apart from some scratches…wait! There's some blood.

"Look at me!" I command. "Oh Joe, your face…"

"Nothing serious, I hope," Hoss says, looking closely at it, "but it needs to be cleaned. Adam, do you have a clean handkerchief?"

"No, but I have my scarf"

My scarf, yes, my scarf. I start to laugh. It must be nerves.

"This doesn't seem like a time for laughing, Adam," Hoss grumbles. "We're in big trouble."

"I know. It's just that Roy just brought my scarf back to me this morning. It's an interesting story."

"Good, you can tell me about it later," says Hoss as he mops the blood that's running down his little brother's face. "Okay, Joe, that's all I can do at the moment. Hold it there, buddy, you're still bleeding."

"Oh, Hoss, it's just a little blood. I've been banged up worse than this."

"Yeah, Joe, we all know you hold the record for slashes and stitches."

"Yep. The doc's set every bone in my body at least once, and I'm champion in the stitches department."

"Okay," I interrupt. "What are we doing? One of us has to go to the house, and it's not me. Joe, you're still bleeding, so I assume you're going to volunteer Hoss. Go on, Hoss! Get to the house, and get what you need to fix this dang wagon…and hurry!" Fortunately the horse is still harnessed to the wagon, so he couldn't run off. Hoss doesn't say anything; he just starts unhitching the horse.

"I remember rolling my eyes when Pa told me to put a saddle in the wagon," Hoss mutters, "but now I'm glad I have it. Okay, I'll hurry. Don't either of you move."

Joe groans. "I hope that aren't any scorpions or snakes around here."

"That would be bad luck, all right. Don't you think we've had enough today, Joe?"

"Yea, I don't remember ever being so jinxed."

"How's your head?"

"Oh, yeah…I'm a bit dizzy, but here goes…have a quick look. Am I still bleeding?"

Wait, I'll look. Take the handkerchief away slowly. Stop; keep it there. You're still losing blood."

"Oh, no. This isn't going to stop."

Calm down, and rest quietly."

"Easy for you to say. You're not the one streaming blood."

"Joe, don't you think you're exaggerating a little? You can't tell me that a little blood is throwing you into a panic."

"Hey, I don't have that much blood to spare."

"Five liters is what you've got, and it doesn't bleed out just like that. Not unless an artery's been severed."

"How do you know that?"

"I know all about it. If the blood were gushing, I'd say you'd cut an artery, and then you'd be in a bad way. With a severed artery, you'd bleed out very fast."

"Ha, ha. I'm dying laughing. It looks to me like your injury isn't any worse than mine. You and your smashed back. Wait a minute…shh!"

"What is it?"

"Something's moving in the bushes."

"Stop your worrying. The bump on your head is serious; it's making you hear things."

"I'm telling you, something moved. Just there, behind that clump of grass. Look! I swear, Adam, there's something there!"

"It's just the wind moving the leaves."

"The wind, my ass. Sure!"

"Don't be crude, Joe. Just because your head is bleeding, that doesn't mean I'll let you talk to me that way."

"Okay, I'm sorry, Adam."

"Apology accepted."

Just then we see two small rabbits exit the bushes. One of them stops and stands on his hind legs, muzzle in the air, sniffing alertly. He turns his head to the right, then to the left, moving his small nose frantically, ready to sense the slightest danger. If he does, he'll scamper away in a few quick bounds, and we won't see anything but a small puff of dust behind him. But for the moment, he doesn't move. Then he goes forward, making small, graceful hops. Joe and I are like kids, fascinated by what we see. Oh, we've seen plenty of rabbits, but this one is something special.

He's practically next to us. I look at his head, a bit elongated, very delicate. And you know what? It has blue eyes! Yes, yes, I promise you. He has two small, sharp eyes, which he turns on us as if he knows we like his movements. His fur is mottled gray, with thistles and the ends of leaves sticking to it here and there.

How long we sit looking at him, I don't know. We're in heaven, staring at this delightful, fresh animal face. In a few seconds, because of two little animals, we forgot our pain. Who could have believed it? Who would have thought that Joe and Adam Cartwright could be so charmed by two small bounding rabbits? Well, anything can happen. And I like it.

The rabbit didn't need to be afraid of Joe, who would have shot a rattlesnake. Neither of us would have sat admiring a snake, the way we're doing now with the little rabbits. It occurs to me: what are these rabbits to each other? I'd really like to know! Are they Mrs. Rabbit and a Mr. Rabbit? Surely they are! That would be the way of things, wouldn't it? It pleases me to see two lovers.

I'll have to wait a while before I can gallop home to my wife. It's absolutely impossible at the moment; I can't risk galloping, or even trotting, with my hurt back. But we parted angrily. We'll have to reconcile. Oho, that could be nice, the making up.

Or maybe not…

The galloping of approaching horses makes the rabbits scamper away. Their two small backsides disappear into the thicket. Goodbye, little rabbits. Thank you for taking the time to be with us.

I expect to see Hoss and Pa. They're here, but they're not alone.

"So you brought the whole world with you," I say. That wasn't necessary; we're not in our final death throes."

"They wanted to come with us," Pa answers, jumping off his horse. He stoops beside Joe and me. "How are you doing, boys?"

"All right. Joe didn't completely bleed out, and as for me…well, my backside is so bruised it probably looks like stewed fruit, and my spine is completely destroyed."

"Don't talk foolishness, Adam. If that were the case, you'd never walk again."

"Who told you I could walk? Oh, Roy, you're here!"

"Yes, Adam. And I'm not alone. Philip Bert is with me."

"Oh, no, that's not true. That does it. You see, Joe, I think you were right: this area is infested. Here's the rattlesnake you mentioned. Only this one is six feet long, and when he spits his venom, he's very dangerous."

"What are you babbling about?" Bert demands.

"Just a joke between Joe and me. We had to pass the time somehow. Sorry for not getting up to greet you, but you can see I'm in no state to stand up."

Hoss turns his back and starts raising up the wagon to change the axle and the wheel.

"Adam," Roy says, "Philip Bert would like to discuss something with you and the members of the council."

"Sorry, but he'll have to wait. You see me here, don't you, Roy? I'm getting fed up, and I'm not in any mood to chatter. Let's get a move on; this wagon had better have wheels soon, because I want to get home and go to bed."

"That's why we came: to help your father and brother. Joe and you are hurt; your brother's bleeding, and you'd be no help in lifting a wagon."

"Thanks for telling me," I snap. "I know I'm disabled. This back spasm is ruining everything."

"Yes, it is," Pa agrees, "but we've got enough people to get you into the wagon. So lay off Roy, and let's go. The four of us will be enough to clean all this up and help you aboard."

"I don't want to be helped by Bert," I say. "What will he do next? If he tries to lay a hand on me, I'll bite him. No way; he's not going to play the Good Samaritan. I'd rather die." In two seconds, I'm going to scream. Just my luck that the guy who tries to give me his hand is the same one who tried to punch me in the face earlier. Lord, you aren't being very nice to me today. Oh, if I could only stand up alone. I don't want this stupid idiot to give me a hand; saying "thank you" to him would burn my lips. I'd rather stay on the ground, eating dust as I creep towards the Ponderosa. I prefer grazed knees to a chafed tongue from saying words I don't mean.

"Come on, Adam," Bert says. "Give me your arm."

"You! Go away; I've asked nothing of you."

"Adam, you're in no position to refuse assistance. If you've got a problem with this, tell your father."

"Okay, I will. Pa…"

"Adam, that's enough," says Pa. "The day's not long enough for this silly arguing. Your brother has repaired the wagon, so make up your stubborn mind to come along, or I'll leave you here."

This time, I find nothing to say. Pa lifts me, after giving a nod to Bert, and before I have time to realize what's happening, I'm on my own two feet. I forget my backache for a moment, thinking of how my father just planted a figurative knife in my back.

"Listen to me, Adam," Pa says. "I don't know what took place between you and Bert, and to tell you the truth, I don't want to know. Roy told me that something happened, something serious. You'll have plenty of time to discuss it when we get to the ranch."

"Pa, I think you and I should discuss it, too. I don't understand this sudden change on your part."

"I'll explain when the time is right."

"So you're not giving me a choice?"

"Exactly, my boy."

I seriously consider telling my father exactly how I feel about his change of attitude towards Bert. The other day, Pa was telling me he couldn't stand the man, and today he's defending him to me!

"Adam, things are different," Bert says suddenly. "You have to believe me. I went to the sheriff today to tell him I've dropped my complaint. And to tell him that…" Oh, no. Bert starts to blubber like a big, soft teddy bear. I don't believe it. Am I seeing things? Joe's the one who had a blow to the head, but I'm the one who's delirious and having visions. Is this the same Philip Bert as before, sobbing here in front of me?

"Sorry," he sputters, "but it's so horrible. They have…" The end of his sentence gets lost in a new hiccough, a new sob."

"What?" I ask. "Roy, what's wrong with him?"

Roy has not time to answer.

Bang! Bang!

Gunshots burst out. A bullet smashes into the wagon. Zing! One passes by my ear. Roy kneels down and draws, followed by Philip Bert, who has pulled himself together and lifted his rifle.

"Get down!" Pa shouts. He rushes to Buck for his rifle, grabs Hoss's as well, and throws it to him. At the sound of the shots, Hoss immediately dropped the wagon that he'd raised, and now he catches the rifle Pa has thrown him. He answers the attackers with shots of his own.

"Joe, Adam, under the wagon!" Pa yells, pulling my arm and rolling me down. "Sorry, I know that hurt, but I had to get you down."

"No, Pa! Give me a rifle!"

"Adam, don't argue with me! Do as you're told—argh!" Pa clutches his shoulder, grimacing painfully.

"Pa! What's happened?"

"Nothing serious. Only a scratch."

But really, what's happening here? What's going on? We don't even know who's taking potshots at us. I can't move, and this makes me frantic. I don't like being helpless, and I can't stand seeing my brothers or father taken down before my eyes. Roy is taking risks now; I see him fire, duck back into hiding, reload and fire again. Another bullet bounces a few inches from his boot.

"Pa, what's happening?"

Roy darts and dodges admirably. For a man his age, he still reacts quickly. I'm curious about how old he is…but this isn't the time to ask.

"Fire! Whoever it is, don't let them close in on us!" Hoss scolds loudly, reloading his rifle. "Come on, you—come and get a big hello from Hoss Cartwright!"

Pa moves closer to Roy, taking advantage of a short respite. "Roy, did you see our attackers?"

"No, Ben, but I…"

At this moment, a wild troop advances on us, a good dozen men, rifles blazing.

"Dadburnit! Navajos!"

"Yoohoooooooo! Kill the pale faces! I want their scalps!" the chief screams his order, and a rain of arrows and bullets falls on us. Pa fires, and one of the riders collapses, then gets up. He pulls out a short dagger and throws himself on my father. The fight is terrible. Pa doesn't take his eyes off the tensed hand of the Indian holding the dagger. It's horrible to be pinned to the ground, unable to do anything. I watch my father, praying with all my strength, since I can't do anything else. Once, I try to get up, but nothing doing. The pain rips through me like lightning, bringing tears to my eyes.

"I am going to scalp you!" shouts the Indian.

"My scalp will stay on my head!" roars Pa. And with all his strength, he pushes away the Indian, who falls over on his back and breaks his neck on a stone—undoubtedly, the same one that immobilized the wagon.

"Aaaaah!" screams the Indian.

"That's for you, you devil!" Pa yells, taking cover again.

Hearing someone else shout, I turn my head. One of our guys? No, Roy has just hit his mark, and another rider falls dead. Roy Coffee is unbeatable. "Pay attention, Bert!" he calls. "You're too exposed!" Bert jumps, realizing that Roy is right. Fortunately for Bert, the sheriff is here, otherwise the city would have just lost a notable citizen—an annoying one, certainly, but he still deserves to live. No one deserves to be killed like this.

"I'll try something!" Pa says. "Cover me, Roy!"

"No," Roy shouts. "Don't!"

"Pa, what are you doing?" Hoss yells. "Are you crazy? Pa!"

But Ben Cartwright doesn't listen to Hoss. He gets up slowly and throws his rifle down. He steps out from behind the rock where took refuge after his fight with the Navajo warrior. "Hold your fire!" he shouts.

The four Indians closest to us lower their weapons, seeing the white man advancing without a rifle.

"Ben Cartwright wishes to speak to the chief, Fast Moose."

The chief advances. I hear Pa saying, "But you're not Fast Moose. Where is the chief? He knows me."

"This chief knows no pale face. Fast Moose is not anymore. He joined the country of heroes."

"This news causes me a big sorrow. I hope the new chief has inherited the wisdom of Fast Moose."

"A wise chief kills pale faces." The chief raises an arm. His warriors approach.

"Disarm them!" someone shots, and I see a massive struggle; Hoss has decided to charge in. "Brutes!" My brother collapses, struck by the butt of a rifle. Pa runs and stoops over to help carry him, but four other warriors appear and restrain him. Roy and Bert don't move. They could shoot, but they might hit my father or Hoss.

"He's an idiot!" Roy mutters. "What was he thinking? Idiot, idiot…" he repeats.

"You, throw down your weapons," the chief orders him. "Come here." Roy and Bert obey. They throw down their rifles and go toward the Indians. "How many are you?" the chief asks.

"We are four," answers Roy. I glance at Joe.

"You lie, pale face. I saw two of your men hide under wagon. These men will die."

The leader makes a sign to one of his warriors. He advances. I see his moccasins; he's getting closer.

"Oh, great chief," Roy says quickly, "these men are dangerous bandits who are about to be hanged. They belong to the white man. They're of no account to the red man, and I won't hand them over to you."

"Pale face not in strong position. But prove good faith. White man, kill pale faces under wagon."

What is Roy going to do? And what will the chief do? A storm rages in my head. Everything I know marches by with incredible speed: my life, the face of my dear Laura, my Peggy's small face…and…

"Go! Pale face, do as I say!"

I see Roy stepping closer and picking up his pistol. He checks it, loads it, and without a single second's hesitation, he pulls the trigger.

"NOOOOO!" Joe is hit first. I see his body quiver and collapse. Then Roy fires again. I feel a burning sensation, and I close my eyes.

Hey, I believed we'd suffer no more when we died. How is this possible? I can't move; as soon as I move a little, hundreds of daggers stab into me. "And of pain, there will be no more…" What a joke!

"Adam! Adam, we're alive!"

"No, Joe, not really. We're living, if you want to say so, but not on earth."

"Adam! Adam, I'm telling you, we're alive!"

"Oh, stop, you moron. It hurts. Joe, stop, I heard you."

My eyes are still closed. I'm afraid to open them. I've often thought about death, but knowing I'm near Paradise, I shiver with fear. Put yourself in my place; I feel very humble at this moment.

"Adam, where are the others?"

"Uh, just wait. They haven't been told of our arrival. I think your mother and mine will be the first to come and welcome us, and then Inger. She'll want to make sure her dear son Hoss isn't with us."

"But Adam, what are you saying? My mother's dead, yours too. You know that." And he begins to shake me.

The pain, mixed with exasperation, makes me react. I gather what little strength remains to me and grab Joe by the hair, yanking him back and forth. As I jerk him, I yell, "Stop shaking me like an apple tree! My back hurts—how many times do I have to say it, you clod?"

"Ow, Adam, let me go! I'm sorry, I'm sorry! Forgive me!"

As I open my eyes, I discover the landscape around me: no angels, no puffy white clouds. There are still pebbles, trees, and dust. So they've all lied on that score. In fact, we just leave this world and find a replica when we die. That's a real disappointment. Maybe there are rattlers and mountain lions here, too. I'm really disappointed; I was waiting for something else.

"Hey, Joe, how is it possible for the wagon to be with us in heaven?"

"Adam, what are you talking about? We're not in heaven. We're still under the wagon."

"But we must have died! You went first! I saw Roy shoot you…I suppose I was second."

"Adam, I'm telling you, we're alive. We're the only live people here. Look around. We're under the wagon on a heap of rocks, eating dust. Alive."

I can see only one explanation. Roy must have reloaded his pistol with blank cartridges. He fired blanks at us! "He was eight feet from us, Joe, and I saw him shoot you. I shouted, but he seemed deaf. He just re-aimed without a word, without any hesitation, and he fired again. So I suppose he used blanks. But we're alone? Where's everyone else?"

"The others? The Indians took them. So we're alone. And they left without giving us directions, naturally. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Joe. I don't know. I want to do something, but whatever we decide, I'll have to stay here. I can't move, and someone has to free Pa, Hoss, Roy…and our friend Bert." Now I understand that he used his rifle to save our skins. Looks like I'll have to revise my judgment of him. He has a kind side after all.

"Yeah, you see, Adam? He's a good guy. Adam, I've got to get to the house. I'm sorry Hoss and I weren't being very nice to you. We were aggravated with you, and that was mean. It's partly our fault that you hurt your back."

"Oh, don't exaggerate, Joe. I was so irritated this morning that I wasn't paying attention to what I was doing. A stark beginner wouldn't have made the mistake I did. I was too angry to be using an axe, and I should have waited until I calmed down. But do you feel well enough to go back to the Ponderosa?"

"I have to, Adam. You need to see a doctor, and we have to help the others. Maybe I can get Roy's deputies. Do we have a horse?"

"No, you'll have to walk."

"I promise you, brother, I'll crawl if I have to."

"Your head. Is it all right?"

"Yes. Don't worry. I'll come back as quick as I can. Will you be okay?"

"As long as I don't move, I will be. Go on, little brother."

"Adam, what if the Indians come back?"

"Stop worrying. Don't forget, they think we're dead. If they come back, I'll improvise. Go, Joe."

"I'll come back soon, Adam."

I watch him go, and I'm alone, with only a stabbing pain for a companion. It drills violently into my back, and I don't move. The same landscape remains in front of me, unmoving. I don't dare turn my head to see if anything is different. I think about my two rabbits, wishing they'd reappear to keep me company. They were so cute…my small friends. I try to boost my spirits by remembering such cheerful moments, recalling good memories to divert my attention from the pain


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Anatolia

Two hours pass. I hear, "Go, Anatolia, please go, Anatolia. Go, my friend. We will soon arrive…"

Surprised, I'd be rooted the spot even if I could move. Is it possible? I see a small fellow, thin as the branch of a hazel tree, with a salt-and-pepper beard and an old moth-eaten hat. He pulls behind him an animal as lean as he is. It's a mule, and it plods slowly down the road as its owner speaks. I can't believe it; my rescue will depend on an old man who speaks to a mule. Lord have mercy. I already have a little brother who feeds coffee to his horse, and now Providence sends me a rickety rescuer who talks to his mule.

"Help," I say weakly. But apparently Grandpa is deaf, totally death. I gather the last strength I have and crawl out from under the wagon. Pulling my body along, I grit my teeth as tears well up in my eyes. "Help, please. Help me."

"Oh, Anatolia, somebody needs us!"

"Oh, yes sir, help me."

"You hear that? Anatolia, this man needs us. We're going to help him, eh, Anatolia?"

"I'm Adam Cartwright. I have to find my brother."

"Anatolia, this poor boy seems to have a heap of troubles. You agree that we have to help him find his brother. Families should never be separated, eh, Anatolia? You know what it means to be separated. You were taken from your mama when you were only a baby."

"Hey, can't you talk to me?" I don't believe it; he's talking to his mule as if I don't exist. "I have to get to the Ponderosa."

"Rosa? Who's that? Oho, Anatolia; we have to do something for this young man! He has a girlfriend waiting for him somewhere."

"PONDEROSA! It's the name of the ranch I live on…and my back hurts."

"Yes, yes, your brother will be back."

Okay, I'll try something else. I reach up and put my hand in the pocket of my vest. Yes, I have a scrap of paper and a pencil. That's what I need. "Please…read this…"

"Anatolia, that's too bad. How can we read it? We can't read. I know only my letters. Let's see: I…i…i…a…e…P…e…o…a…"

Oh, this can't be happening. What a nightmare. I can't move, and I'm lost in the middle of nowhere with a deaf grandpa who doesn't know how to read. Oh, Lord, you've really abandoned me. This isn't fair; it's far too much for one man to bear.

"Anatolia, we're going to help this young man. You see, I'm going to take this rope, I'm going to attach it around him, and you're going to pull. But you promise me to pull slowly, Anatolia. You shouldn't make any abrupt movements, or he'll suffer. You don't want that, eh, Anatolia? If you work well, Daddy will give you a double ration of hay, eh, my Anatolia?"

I try one last time, raising my voice. "I PROMISE YOU A GOOD MEAL FOR YOURSELF, AND A PLACE IN THE BARN FOR ANATOLIA, IF YOU'LL GET ME TO MY RANCH!"

"Don't shout, friend. Brocks doesn't want that."

Okay, the man doesn't want me to shout. At least he hears me. I feel him wrapping the rope around my waist, and I raise my hips a little to help him. One, two, three, and the mule begins pulling me to my feet. Before I get there, I feel every pebble that rolls under my stomach and ribs.

It takes us almost two hours to reach the Ponderosa. Anatolia stops every five or six feet to nibble at a couple of blades of grass or eat a flower. It's a nice walk that I would have enjoyed if I weren't pain-riddled. Besides, my position doesn't allow me to savor the charming ride. Yes, ride: the old man hoisted me up, and I was able to lean on him. In the end, he had just enough strength to hold me. He bent me over the saddle of his mule, and I lay on my stomach, legs hanging on one side and arms swinging on the other.

I was shot by the sheriff, and now Grandpa brings me back as if I were a corpse.

Finally we top the hill above the Ponderosa. I'll send Hop Sing into town; he'll carry a message to Laura and the deputies. Now we have to find Pa, Hoss, Roy, and Philip Bert. And we have to teach a good lesson to those who attacked us.

The ranch is close by, but that's the only happy piece of news, because I know that the people dear to me aren't there. And that's terrible. I can't even imagine it. Even if my suffering ends, I'll never be content. Every time I've ever returned home wounded, my family has been there to welcome me. Pa, of course, but also Hoss and Joe. Pa has a particularly unique way of running over; I can see him now. He has very heavy steps, my father, but he's also heavy on love and attention. I've often seen him walking or running towards me and supporting me with a gaze of tenderness and love. I'm not a girl, but I assure you I've been touched by his kindness and care.

Well, now I have to endure the last few yards. Still in the same uncomfortable position, still with the pain that tears across my back. Well, as long as I'm feeling pain, I won't worry. That means I won't be paralyzed. And always this noise: the old man doesn't stop chattering. Not with me, apparently; I don't catch one word out of three. He speaks to the mule, nonstop. Lord, don't ever let me get like that! If I start speaking to Sport, I'll ask someone to kill me. It would be unbearable.

I feel almost as if I'm alone back here. Always the same pebbles in my line of vision, always the same dust being raised by Anatolia's hooves. I wonder if Pa and the others are in the same dust I am. I wonder what Joe is doing. I don't even know if he reached the ranch. His wound didn't seem serious, but you never can tell. Joe is the most pigheaded of us, always wanting to hide his cuts. He doesn't want to sit on the sidelines during a pursuit or a bit of work.

Yes, he's pigheaded, my brother—but he's never tried to avoid work by hiding. As soon as he knew how to walk, he's asked for jobs, occasionally with disastrous results. He wasn't quite six years old when he wanted to break stallions and drive cattle. Inconceivable! On every workday, we had to spend half our time watching him and keeping him out of fatal accidents. Pa even invented a nickname for Hoss and me: we weren't cowboys anymore, but Joe-boys. We became Joe-herds as well as cowherds. Funny but true! I caught him in my lasso so many times! It was the only way to keep him from taking off to the corral. He was heading over there constantly, the rascal. It attracted him like a magnet, and his desire to be there was a lot stronger than any desire to be obedient. He just had to go stick his nose over there.

"Well, friend, is this where you live?"

"Yes, I live here."

"Oh? You give here? He's giving it to us, Anatolia! I'm a lucky man!"

Always the same, always deaf. I don't answer; it would take too long, and frankly, I don't want to try to explain.

"This is a beautiful place, Anatolia. For sure, that's a beautiful little hut."

I shake my head, thinking Grandpa should be quite satisfied to rest in that "hut." Anatolia should be happy, too. She must be exhausted, the poor animal; she's carried me, along with the bags of the old man, and she's borne the ceaseless jabber of her owner. This animal deserves to be decorated for high acts of bravery. Come to think of it, I deserve a medal, too, to have endured such torture.

But here we are at last, in the ranch yard. Anatolia stops. I lift my head, murmuring, "Thank you, God. No more potholes, no more stones. My back says 'thanks' to you."

Hey, wait! What is he doing? He's going to the door, as if he doesn't care about me! "Hey, hey! Come back! Come get me off this mule. Hey! Do you hear me?"

"Come back? What? How dare you order me around like that!"

What should I do now? Do I have to wait until I dry up and the wind blows me off this mule? Argh, this is too much! I can't stand it anymore. "Untie the rope NOW!" I shout with all my strength, hoping that Grandpa will hear me, but unsure. Then I yelp, "OW! Are you crazy?" He's just given me a blow with a stick across my buttocks. A strong blow, dang it!

"I told you, Brocks doesn't like it when you shout. You need to start listening, kid, or Brocks will make you hear."

This guy is crazy, raving mad. I'm not a kid! Oh, Grandpa, you need to buy yourself an ear trumpet and a pair of spectacles. Besides being deaf, your eyes don't work. I can't believe you'd mistake me for a kid. I've long since passed the age for a slap on the bottom, it seems to me, but the fact is, Grandpa has just spanked me.

"Please untie me," I beg. "I want my bed."

"What? BAD? You hear that, Anatolia? We save him, and this is how he thanks us. The old man Brock has changed his plans to help him, and this young imp still grumbles. Ah, these young people, no respect…you know what, Anatolia? I believe this young whippersnapper needs a good lesson. I'm going to untie him, and then I'll show him that old man Brock doesn't like brats or bad-mannered kids."


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Reunion

On Sunday evening, in Laura's and my bedroom, Pa tells us, "Here's what happened. The Indian chief led us away, blindfolded."

"But they don't usually do that."

"These Indians were renegades, Adam. They left the tribe after the death of Fast Moose, refusing to submit to the authority of his son. They swore to kill the greatest number of white men they could. We would have been their first casualties, except for Bert's actions. These Indians knew a lot about him and his attitudes about their people. Last week he hunted in their territory, and almost hurt one of their warriors, and that's why the renegades kidnapped his son. That's what Bert and Roy had just told us as we were coming to get you and Joe."

"They kidnapped Kevin? Poor boy." Now I understand why he looked like death warmed over, and the reason for his collapse. I have so much affection for the kid, although I still have some aversion for his father.

"Eventually we arrived in a place called the Valley of the Shadows."

"Sounds like a charming place to spend a holiday."

"You said it, Adam. Dry trees as far as the eye can see, big peaks rising under a blazing son, ravens cawing overhead, waiting for only one thing: to eat you."

"Personally," Hoss adds, "I'd rather be held captive at the edge of a lake."

"Yeah," Joe agrees, "and sitting at a table in front of a dozen grilled chickens."

"Absolutely, Joe," Hoss grins.

"I know you would, big brother," Joe keeps on. "But that's why they had to let you go; they were scared you'd eat up all their rations. The last meal of a doomed man is something else when the doomed man is Hoss Cartwright."

"Very funny. Ha ha."

Pa continues his story. "We were at the mercy of these renegades. We wondered who they were going to kill next."

"Wait a minute, Pa. You knew that Roy had fired blanks at us, didn't you?"

"I didn't know yet. Roy and Bert wouldn't be able to tell us until later. We couldn't speak to each other; your brother and I were lashed to a dried-out trunk, and Bert and Roy were tied up on the ground. Roy figured out how to give me a message, though."

"You would have enjoyed this part, Adam," Hoss put it. "Dadburnit, Roy was incredible. Listen to this, brother: the Indian chief asked Roy what the bandits had done, and Roy said, 'They robbed BANKS.' And hey, this is the downright ingenious part. With his boot, he drew an L. He pantomimed a robbery by pointing his finger and saying, 'Bang, bang!' And then he made a sign to Pa."

"Yes," Pa says, "and I understood that he'd fired blanks. That was one of the greatest moments of joy in my life. I'd just lost two sons, shot down before my eyes. And I thought of you, my dear Laura, and of this child growing in you. It was horrible."

Laura touches his hand. "Thank God, Mr. Cartwright, that this is no more than a bad memory now. Adam is saved, and so are all of you. Everything has ended well."

"If you say so," I huff. "I'm still suffering, though. Please don't forget that." Laura leans toward me and kisses me on the forehead. "Oh, yes, dear Laura," I moan. "Right there. That's the only place that isn't hurting. Everything else is smashed to bits, including the parts the crazy old man broke with his switch."

"Poor baby."

"Ha ha ha," Hoss laughs. "I would have liked to have seen that."

"He was a sick man, Hoss. He nearly made me crazy. He was stone deaf, and he spent all his time talking to his mule. And when I tried to speak to him, he didn't understand half my words, so I shouted myself hoarse. And on top of that, he gave me a beating. He thought I was being disrespectful."

"What?" Pa exclaims. "He hit you?"

"Yes, Pa." They all gather around my bed, looking at me as if I were dying. Laura is very close to me, and she puts her hand on my shoulder. With the special injection Paul gave me, my backache is eased, so I'm not feeling pain at the moment.

"Sweetheart, you're in poor condition. You'll need a few days to recover, that's for certain."

"We'll have to find another teacher for this final week. Miss Jenkins isn't back yet."

Joe laughs. "I get it—we've got to find a substitute for the substitute!"

Very funny, Little Joe. Maybe you should be the one. It wouldn't hurt you to read a few books and teach a little arithmetic."

"Stupid idea," Pa says. "Can you imagine your brother being a teacher? I can tell you the extent of his education: how to play hooky and how to get his brother to do his work for him. And that's only a start."

"You're right, Pa. My little brother is very gifted, but his areas of expertise wouldn't meet with the town council's approval."

"Not yet," Joe grins. "But sooner or later, my skills always prove to be the ones that are essential in life. You've got to admit, bit brother, I saved you from being hurt worse than you were by that old man."

"Yes, I have to thank you for stepping in. Thanks to you, he gave me a dozen blows instead of…good grief, I have no idea how many he would have given me. Nobody would have believed how fast and thick they were coming. He didn't look like much, but he was hiding some muscles under there, you know. You should have seen how he dragged me out from under the wagon…well, of course, Anatolia helped him then."

"Excuse me, dear husband, who is this Anatolia?" Laura sounds a little testy.

"The mule, of course."

"He called his mule Anatolia? But Adam, that's my aunt's name! The elder sister of Aunt Lil."

"Well, this Anatolia was his mule. Joe, you tell her. I don't want Mrs. Cartwright to start imagining things."

"Of course, big brother. It would be bad if your only undamaged place got smacked with a rolling pin."

"Never would I harm Adam, Joe! How dare you say that?"

"All women, everyone knows, are perfectly capable of breaking things over our heads, right? Hey! Ow! Adam, Hoss, help me!"

"Oh, no, little brother. You're on your own."

There's a general roar of laughter around the bed, a roar that neither Joe nor I share. Not for the same reasons, you understand.

"Okay, boys, get serious for thirty seconds so I can finish my story!" says Pa.

"Yes, Pa," I say gratefully. "You'd gotten to the part where Roy signaled to you that we were alive. What then?"

"Then we were still tied up, all four of us, without weapons and under the constant watch of the renegades. We couldn't move. They'd left three warriors with us, and we had only one chance: to wait for nightfall, to try to escape. Maybe at least one of us could get away. But we had to wait, just wait…"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Courage

"And that's where I entered the stage!" Joe proclaims. "Please give a round of applause to the genius of intrigue, the incomparable, the inimitable Joseph Francis Cartwright. Lively as he is small, audacious as a hundred men, shrewd as a cougar…"

Hoss has been waiting for a time like this. The youngest son is singing his own praises, and Hoss jumps in to take him down a peg. "Okay, when you've finished struttin' your stuff like a dang peacock, maybe you'll condescend to tell us your story."

"Certainly, big brother. Just let me handle the pacing and the effects here. I know how to manage my own entrance. Okay, Adam—after I left you, I got back to the ranch, and…

"Wait, little brother. Don't go so fast. Remember, you left without a horse. I know, I like brevity, but I need a few details."

"Yes, I left walking. I got to the main road, and there…"

"Let me guess. You met the caravan of Miss Marple, a fortune teller who brought you home and read in her crystal ball where Pa and Hoss were being kept prisoner."

"No, I just met Paul, the doctor, coming back from his rounds."

"Oh, that was good luck! Meeting the doctor when you're lost and hurt, that's extraordinary luck! You're a lucky man, Joe. It makes me think I'll take you with me next time I'm going to play poker."

"Can I go on?"

"Why, yes." I smile and wave my hand with exaggerated graciousness. "Forgive me."

"So Paul brought me back to Ponderosa and sewed me up. I told him everything, and I saddled Big Blackie, and Paul and I left for the city. I didn't rest a single minute; we had to find a way to save Pa and the others."

"So what did you do?"

"Just listen, Adam," Pa tells me. "What Joe did was wonderful. We owe him everything, I have to admit. I salute him; he's earned my eternal gratitude."

"I'll remind you of that, Pa," Joe grins.

Pa clears his throat with a scraping sound, admonishing Joe with a glance. Of course, that doesn't change the fact that Joe has just won a prize he'll treasure like a sacred totem. None of us will ever forget it.

"Well, then I had a brilliant idea," Joe continues. "I remembered a story in a dime novel I bought…"

"You read those at your age?" I can't help teasing.

"It's a good thing I do, because a dime novel saved them—not 'The World of Finance' or 'The Little Carpenter's Manual.' I read 'The Adventures of Old MacGyver,' and I reused one of his tricks. When we got to the city, I found Lars, one of Roy's deputies. I told him my plan, and we went looking for what I needed. I found glue and a supply of feathers at Ned Patterson's, and I left with Lars and Steve Dexter."

"Three men? What an impressive reinforcement!"

Pa gives me a stern look. "Adam, sometimes the number isn't what ensures victory. You'll see."

"Once I had my gear, we got underway. I passed the place you'd been, and circled to the north to try to pick up the trail the Navajos had taken after leaving us."

"I suppose you didn't want to let it get cold." I fight down a little bitterness. I know it's not charitable, but after all I've been through, I'm having trouble with the idea that my brother forgot about me and my predicament. "Anyway, you found the trail right away."

"Well, let's just say that Pa and Hoss made my job a little easier by leaving signs that only we Cartwrights know. But don't forget, I'm a fine bloodhound."

"We won't forget, son. We won't forget."

"I'd like to know," my wife asks, "what are these secret Cartwright signs?"

"One trick is drawing the mark of the Ponderosa in the dirt with the toe of our boot," I tell her. "It looks like we're dragging our feet, but in fact we're leaving a mark."

"Very astute, my darling."

"Pa and Hoss did their work so well that it didn't take me long to locate their hiding place. Actually, they weren't so far from the borders of the Ponderosa. They were somewhere between the Eagle's Peak and Death Valley. I saw a sentry posted on a summit. I passed near him, and I got rid of him without any trouble. You know, Hoss, I've learned your technique; I can put anyone to sleep. Maybe I should offer my services to Paul. Ha ha ha!"

"And then?" I prompt him.

"Then," Pa says, his eyes lighting up with pride, "the genius of your little brother showed itself."

"I got rid of my jacket and shirt. I put on a headdress of feathers that Ned's wife sewed for me, and I walked ahead, hands in the air, followed by Lars and his assistant, both holding me at gunpoint. Lars shot once, into the air, to announce our presence. Of course, the Navajos came out. I had colors painted on my face, so I appeared Indian. They believed me, and the chief raised his hand."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12: A Big Wind

"'What do you want with my brother?' the chief said. Believe me, his eyes didn't leave the gun that was threatening one of his braves. It wasn't me who answered, it was Lars. He said, 'We captured this rebel. We know you and your men slaughtered two white men. You're going to pay with your lives for this.' Another Indian answered, 'Your scalps will be in our tents before midnight.' Lars was sensational, but the Indian chief wasn't impressed. So it was necessary to get things moving. Lars whispered to me that he'd give me a hundred-foot start, and he fired once, twice, three times. The bullets didn't make me fall, and the Indians were shocked. You've guessed it: Lars was firing blanks at me."

"But Pa, hadn't you figured out it was Joe?"

"Not yet. I was still stunned by your disappearances, and my mind wasn't very clear."

"I took off, and then I quit running and turned around. I dashed forward with a savage 'whoop' and screamed like a barbarian, racing towards Lars and his deputy. Their weapons continued spitting fire, but no bullets struck me. The chief was dumbfounded, petrified! The firing stopped, since they were out of cartridges. Not one had hit the bull's eye! The chief cried, 'Oh Great Spirit, is this brother of mine a god?' I took a deep breath and said to him that the wizard Ise-a-kanatou had filled my headdress with magic, making me invincible. No bullet could harm me. They were obliged to believe me. And that's all."

"What? How is that all? You're not finished!"

"Well, I said to the chief that I would exchange my magical headdress for the four prisoners, who would be taken to my tribe and sacrificed at sunset. This would honor the great Manabhoszo Kivati, god of trickery."

"And this worked? You succeeded in convincing the chief?"

"Yep, it worked, Adam. I took off my precious headdress with a thousand prayers, because it was starting to lose some feathers, and I gave it to the chief with a bow of respect. And then, wonder of wonders, he took me by the shoulders and raised me up, saying, 'You are one of the bravest warriors I have ever seen. You have stood against the stick which spits out fire. You are very bold, and chief is honored to accept your gift. Chief does not understand why you give up this protection in exchange for pale faces.' He called his braves over and gave me a necklace of feathers, naming me 'Big Avenger.'"

"How did you answer him?"

"I told him I wanted my brother renegades to have the magic headdress so they could continue their struggle. Then I said I'd soon be undergoing a ritual in the Big Meadow, and that I wouldn't be able to use any magic to get through the ordeals that Great Spirit would send me. And I left, taking my four trophies…five, including Bert's son."

"Kevin? He was with them?!"

"Yes," says Pa. "You see, Adam, when Roy came with Bert to the ranch, it was to tell us that the Indians had kidnapped his son."

"Why did they do that? For what reason?"

"You know that Bert hadn't stopped his provocations: his placards, speeches, and other constant attacks against the Indians. These renegades wanted revenge, and they kidnapped the kid while he was hunting with his father in the warriors' territory."

"Poor Kevin. He had no chance, being brought up by such an inglorious father."

"You know, Adam, I think Bert has learned his lesson."

"Bert? Come on, stop dreaming, Pa. That type of person has jelly instead of brains. He's blinded by hatred, greed, and his own interests. Even his son doesn't count as much."

"Adam, you're too hard on him."

"Pa, I don't understand you. How can you defend a man like that? He's a hundred miles from your principles and your morality."

"I can defend him because understanding and compassion are among my principles."

"All right. I'll give him a chance. But I'll bet it won't last."

"Then he'll have lots of time to remember what nearly happened."

After this weekend of madness, I find myself alone in bed with chicken bouillon and three carrots in the bottom of the bowl. My back continues giving me pain in every gasp, drilling through my temples and cutting short my breath. Only injections relieve me. And you know what? I have had the distinct "pleasure" of discovering that my wife has a hidden talent; she handles a syringe with skill. And yes, believe me, she does it very differently than Paul. She has a way of taking my trousers down my legs. She takes her time, undoes my belt slowly, pushes aside my shirt, and rolls me carefully on my side. Then she tests my thigh to find the fattest place, and she plants the needle in. The advantage is that I'm so flustered I don't even feel the pain. The disadvantage is, she turns me back over, looks at me, and says with a mischievous air, "No, Mr. Adam, you need to rest. I'll sleep in the other room with Peggy."

Just you wait, my pretty, until I recover.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Thursday, November 24th, 1864

We all go back to the Ponderosa to celebrate Thanksgiving. We arrive at about 1:00 p.m., after attending church in the morning. We gather in the dining room to thank the Lord for the happiness this year has brought. Hop Sing has done beautifully with the table, putting a nice yellow-orange runner over the white tablecloth. There are plates in ochre clay and a small pumpkin centerpiece. Hop Sing has used the red crystal glasses with gold bases, and they look very nice. Red napkins with golden borders are folded in intricate shapes beside each plate. Laura is charmed.

"Hop Sing, this is splendid! What do you call it?"

"This is flowels, lotus. Hop Sing learned to fold papel accolding to old custom tlansmitted by glandmothel. Called oligami. These ale papel folding, but Hop Sing use for napkins. You like?"

"Oh, yes, Hop Sing. It's wonderful, what a pretty table, and what care you used here! Ben, you have a gem in Hop Sing."

"Ah, dear Laura, you have every reason to praise the talents of our good friend. On this day when we celebrate our happiness and give thanks for our daily delights, let's toast our own dear Hop Sing."

"No, no, Hop Sing not want this!"

"Oh yes, you will. Come and have a drink with us."

Hoss and I each take him by an arm and pull him towards the table. Joe hands him a glass, and he reluctantly takes it and puts it to his lips.

"This vely good wine."

"You see, Hop Sing, you should indulge from time to time."

"Oh no, Hop Sing does not want to become slave of good wine. This not good fol the head. And if Hop Sing not have good head, not possible to be good cook."

"What?" Hoss exclaims. "Put down that glass, right now!" Hoss can't tolerate such words. If the cooking is in danger, he has to step in. But then he catches himself and bursts out laughing.

"Sit down, now," Hop Sing tells us. "Hop Sing will bling meal."

The traditional Thanksgiving meal follows: roast turkey with blueberry sauce, mashed potatoes, and the famous pumpkin pie.

"Pa, may I say grace? It's my first thanksgiving since our marriage, and my first as an expecting father."

"Of course, Adam. You're also the head of a family, and I'm very proud to give you the honors. And you know, this wouldn't have always been the case."

"Oh, please, Pa. I was still a kid until recently."

We clasp hands above our plates and bow our heads, and I recite.

"Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all you lands!

Serve the Lord with gladness. Come into His presence with thanksgiving.

Know that the Lord is God; it is He who made us, and we are his.

We are His people and the sheep of his pasture.

Enter His gates with thanksgiving and go into His courts with praise.

Give thanks to Him, and bless his name,

For the Lord is good; His steadfast love endures forever,

And his faithfulness extends to all generations."

The meal is cheerful, and we have fun. It's very nice after all the inconveniences of last week. My back has completely recovered, but I spent the entire week in bed, not leaving it for six days. The mattress, fortunately, was firm, so I recovered quickly. The children have been given until Miss Jenkins returns to the classroom. No, Joe didn't have to become a teacher, and that's good. Oh, I don't think the children would have complained, but I think the parents would have, once they heard what kind of advice my little brother would have given the children.

Philip Bert has left town with his wife and son. It's too bad for Kevin. That kid doesn't deserve a father like his. I really do hope the unfortunate incident with the Indians has opened Philip's eyes, but I doubt it. I deeply fear that it will only reinforce his hatred for those who are different from him.

After the feast, we all take seats in the living room and joyfully observe one of the customs associated with Thanksgiving: we unbuckle our belts a little because the meal was so enormous!

Later, back at home, Peggy is sleeping. I relax in the tub, lounging in my bath. It's late, but that's okay. Closing my eyes, I plunge my head under the hot water, enjoying the sensation. When I emerge and open my eyes, she is there. She leans against the door with her hands on her round belly and a wicked look in her eyes. Smiling, she comes over and kisses me on the forehead, pushing back a wet strand of hair.

"Ah, my love, you are soaking, my dear…"

"I know someone else who will be soaking in a minute." I take her by the arm and pull her toward the tub."

"Stop, Adam! You're mad!"

"You need a good lesson, because you refused to hold me when I was lying in bed. That hurt me."

"That was for your own good."

I stand up, take her dress away, and take her by the hand. Our bed waits for us. Bare, I throw myself on it and pull her toward me. I kiss her rounded belly.

Afterward, we fall asleep.

Some weeks later, we read in the paper that in Colorado, the soldiers of Colonel John Chivigton slaughtered an innocent group of Cheyenne Indians in Sand Creek. In addition, the war that has lasted for four years has become the main subject of our conversations. Thank God, Pa has said there will be no secession talk in his house. He reminds us, there will be no schisms in our family. The four sticks he gave Joe as an illustration, telling him to break them all at once, are prominently displayed on his desk. Isolated, a man is fragile and weak, even if his name is Cartwright. But my standing together, by being indivisible, a united family is strong. Pa is the best when it comes to lecturing, but I also like his effective, practical, and edifying demonstrations.


End file.
